But Mountains are Clouds, Too
by skipperZ
Summary: Aiar, an ancient, tries to protect her adopted mortal children from an ancient enemy while keeping her professional life from interfering. Originally Lucia MacKenzie was Duncan MacLeod and Christian was Jimmy, but I later changed it.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Watching 

I snuck into the room as quietly as I could, fearing to give my position away to hypothetical ears. I hoped I was not being followed, but I didn't give myself the luxury of counting on it, not that day, not any day. I was assured it was safe, but until I see him, I couldn't risk it. Once I did, I'd have to.

I sat on my heels, waiting, not sure if I was more nervous about risking some exposure or telling him the truth. I didn't think he would hate me when he knew, but I knew once he did, I would have to get the hell out of Dodge. I didn't have to wait long. The approach of another person made me sit up a bit, tense, and grasp the handle of my hip knife. Just in case. My vigilance proved unnecessary; it was him. There wasn't much light, but we could recognize each other anywhere. I stood up, my knife forgotten, or more accurately perhaps disregarded. At first he moved to embrace me, but as I stood up, what little light there was fell across my face, as I intentioned. He stopped, and that was when I knew I didn't have to tell him. He knew. He could read it on my face. For a moment that seemed like an eternity he just stared, disbelieving. I wanted desperately to look away, to break eye contact, so that I didn't have to see what he was going through, but I forced myself. I hoped he could see how much pain and shame I felt.

Finally, he blinked. "No," he said, without much conviction. "It can't be true."

I blushed furiously and looked away, my shame finally overcome my will power.

"No!" he cried, even though he knew it then. It was just a visceral reaction, that denial, but it burnt me much worse than rage and anger. I was reminded of a night in my own past when I had felt that complete disbelief at being betrayed. Suppressing the flashbacks, I opened my mouth to try and explain, but couldn't make the words come out, which was probably for the better. I know it's unforgivable. I knew it then, too. I felt hollow. I still do.

"I should go," I said as his focus slid from me to his own torment. He sobbed and crouched over his knees in the fetal position. I knew I should have left but I couldn't.

"Why!" he finally managed.

Because I was a horrible person. Am. "I would undo it if I could." And I would. "I'm a coward," I said aloud to myself so he could hear. I assume he heard me, but it made no difference. He was rocking back and forth, although he didn't realize. Panic welled up but I pushed it away, along with the intense feelings of empathy. Was it better or worse when your betrayer regretted the betrayal?

Fear of pursuit began to gnaw at me, but I stayed there, unmoving, with him until his shaking and sobbing ceased, and he could leave the room under his own power. Whether that took hours or minutes, I wasn't sure. As he rose, I could see he had a strong desire to strike me, which somehow he mastered. He left without another word. Feeling almost as bad as he did, I left soon after, keeping up the semblance of stealth. I fled town, as was required, and although I've been back, in all the years since, I still get the feeling that I entered the Land of Nod that night, and never emerged.

Although, I had been wandering long before that night, and always have been, so I really ought to say I was born in the Land of Nod. And I fled south, not east. And I didn't kill anyone related to me. Or at all. This time, anyway. Yet… I can imagine, very acutely, the feelings of regret, and emptiness, and intense pain of fratricide. That which can never be undone. Such thoughts plague those who act in the heat of a moment.

I walk into a bar, and wait patiently for the barman on a stool. I know he won't cooperate without the proper incentive, but I think I've done my homework well enough that I can offer adequate incentive. Everyone has a price, although often times it isn't monetary, and there's a fine line between a bribe and a threat. A line I am _very_ good at treading, even if I do say so myself.

"What'll it be?"

I feel a momentary sensation of being inside a stereotype. "What do you recommend?"

More than my question, it is my tone that gets his attention. He meets my eye, and I watch him closely as he gives me a rundown of the most popular drinks. We're being watched. The story of my life. Annoyed, but undeterred, I let him bring me something alcoholic, which I drink as slowly as possible, and repeatedly engage him in conversation when he comes my way. After four drinks and six hours, it's late enough that he has very little to do except keep an eye on the few seriously shitfaced patrons. None of them are observing us much, but there are plenty of customers tucked away in ones and twos by the tables in dark corners. I think I've got the watcher pegged, but I can't be sure until I do something that they're watching for. Unfortunately, talking to the barman is one of these things, and when I do I need to pay attention to the barman.

"So, wait, is this the same bar where those guys were killed last week?" I know perfectly well it is. I'm also immensely glad I'm not drunk, even though I'm a bit tipsy and playing it up.

The barman freezes, suspecting why I'm here now, although he can't be sure.

"Yes," he says shortly. "Live in the neighborhood?" He wants to know how I know.

"Not exactly," I say with a carefully chosen tone of irony. "The police sure don't." He freezes. Time for the bait. "You know, they'll pro'ly close the case. Don't sound like any new evidence is gonna show up on their doorstep tomorrow."

He digests the implications of this. I wait until he's considering what to say to me before I speak again. "Still… _someone_ shoulda known what that guy was doing here." I know. And now the bartender knows I know. And by the look on his face, he knows, too. He opens his mouth to ask me what I want, but I preempt him again and stop playing drunk. "Is there a back room to this place?"

He looks at me for a long time. I can see the cost-benefit analysis running behind his eyes. Giving him the illusion of making the choice himself, I simply keep his gaze, not revealing any of my intentions in my eyes or expression. Finally, he nods, and gestures me to the side of the bar where I already know there are stairs to the safe house above. I suspect a trap, as usual, but my instincts belie my suspicions, and as usual my instincts win. The safe house is empty.

As soon as we enter the bare, dark little room, my eyes light upon a stereo and he turns to me, demanding what I want, and probably is about to ask me what I know, but I cut him off. I walk over to the stereo, turn it on full blast, and then walk back so I can talk in his ear.

"I want to know who killed them, because it certainly isn't the joker they've got locked up in county."

There are three primary organizations that I suspect of orchestrating the murders, but I need confirmation. All three have spectacular motives and track records, but none are tipping their hands. My information indicates all three were trying to have these guys killed, but no one seems to know who actually pulled it off. The circumstances of the murder are out of character for all three, which has made me suspicious of a fourth party or individual. The problem is, I'm running out of leads, and worse, out of time. The fall guy who's been arrested and will probably be sentenced didn't actually witness the killings, and although the police don't believe him I do. The bar's patrons had very little helpful to add, and the police did their homework there pretty well, which is why someone's been arrested. I suspect they've been leaned on, and if the barman is uncooperative I'm going to have to try them.

"What-" he starts, but I cut him off again. I can paint him into a corner pretty effectively. I'm just hoping it's not the corner with the door.

"Please. Let's not beat around the bush. Sonny won't find out you talked through me. He doesn't know what's going on any better than you do. Someone's leaning on him like he's leaning on you. You can either tell me the truth now or wait till I find out on my own. Those watchful eyes downstairs? They're watching me, not you. If I leave here looking pissed off, they'll assume either you didn't talk or you have nothing to talk about. I leave here looking like the cat that caught the canary, they'll be up here next." This is the bait and the threat all in one. I don't need to say that I could tell Sonny he talked, or that I could kill him where he stands. There are a multitude of unspoken things that are no doubt occurring to him. I just have to wait and let them.

"It was a girl," he finally says. "Skinny Asian girl, early twenties. Tattoo on the inside of her wrist."

Fuck. "A circular tattoo? Military looking?"

"Yeah. She was all dressed in black, too. Didn't think much of it at the time."

He obviously thinks he needs to be more descriptive, but I know exactly who it is, even with his generic description. I thank him and give him a brief assurance and make my way downstairs and out of the bar.

I don't need to fake the pissed off attitude I promised as I leave.

When I was born, the custom was to hold the newborn up to the light, either the sun or the moon. Sunrise was considered an auspicious time to be born, as was a full moon. Sunset wasn't exactly inauspicious, but weakness of some description was expected to sap your child. Eclipses… well it depended on the religious leader of the time. Some claimed your child would be a scourge on its people, others that your child was heralded by the gods themselves and would bring great joy and happiness. Sometimes both, depending on whether it was a solar or a lunar eclipse. And how many stupefying rocks the divine conduit used. Bad weather such that the light of sun or moon couldn't be seen usually was believed to induce mediocrity. If the weather was so inclement as to be dangerous, your child was dangerous; either for good or ill was up to interpretation. I don't know exactly when this custom was lost to the sands of time, but I do know it was often a self-fulfilling prophecy, if it was ever remembered.

When I was born, the sun was rising. My mom desperately wanted to wait until the sun had risen to have me, although why she thought this was so important while having labor pains I'll never understand. Unfortunately for her, a storm was gathering. The midwife tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't listen. Finally her body stopped waiting for permission, and with some harsh words from the midwife, of which "death" and "arrogant" were probably among, my mother relented. As the midwife held me up to the disperse light coming from the general direction of east, the clouds broke just long enough to let through a single ray of light, which fell on my face before the clouds filled the gap and the summer monsoon started. My mother told me that story many times, she was so proud. She was convinced it was a sign that I would triumph over all the bad things in out lives, of which there were many. Little ray of hope is what she named me. I'm glad she never lived to see what would eventually befall me.

I hate the Watchers. Either they're idealistic morons who don't realize they're tools, or they're power-hungry bureaucrats who think they can play god hiding behind a mantra they don't understand or believe in. Or they're murderous bastards, but that can be said of any group larger than ten. I suspected they were behind the two murders in the bar, but with no concrete evidence I was quick to dismiss it, as lethal force isn't usually in their repertoire. I suspect one of their agents is acting without permission or consent, but I was pretty sure I knew who was involved in the victims' case and there were no Asian girls.

I haven't slept all night on account of interrogating the barman, and now I have to berate a Watcher, or rather one of their management-types. Hopefully his office will be bugged and I'll get him in trouble, the bastard. I've already shaken off my tails, of which there were two. Unfortunately, I'm taking a detour through a bad part of town, specifically to shake said pursuit, but some street gangsta kids decide I'm an easy target. I curse them mentally in several languages, not because I don't want to loose my purse but because they're going to cost me time I don't have. It won't take all that long for one of my tails to catch up, and I still haven't made that phone call. The whole purpose of delaying the phone call was so I could confront the region's head Watcher or whatever his title is, but if I have to fight off a street gang, even a juvenile one, it's going to cost me minutes I don't have.

So, time for an innovative solution. I don't often carry around much in the way of weaponry, seeing as many urban office buildings and public transportation employ the use of metal detectors. It's not so much that I can't get through the checkpoints if I want, as it's a hassle and a waste of time. Luckily, I've still got my knife and switchblade from my downtown bar stint. Drawing the knife visibly, I see the kids' eyebrows rise, and they exchange a glance, but they don't look worried. They're armed, too. Without breaking stride, I throw the knife at who I gather is their leader, but aim for between his legs. The knife catches on the fabric and rips it, but no harm is done, and the knife glances off the pavement and skitters past them. Before they all take in what just happened, I have the switchblade out and wave it vaguely in their direction. The manic gleam in my eye is frighteningly easy to call up, and it's all they need. They take off running. Trying not to show my amusement, I pick up my knife as I pass, putting both blades safely away.

It's only when they round a corner that they shout a racial slur back at me. I almost stop in my tracks, realizing how stupid I am sometimes. I'm not Hispanic, but I did go out of my way to look paler than usual last night and today, so taking a shortcut through a racial war zone was hardly excusable by obliviousness. I wish I'd tried harder to be unnoticeable. It hardly matters now; I'm not far from my destination.

I try to remember previous dealings I've had with the Watchers. It's not hard, I deal with them regularly. But when I do, it's almost always through a third party. This has always been as much for my security as for their peace of mind. However, it does mean that the number of encounters I can recall are few and far between, and will be of negligible help. The man I'm going to accost isn't an individual I would normally have business dealings with, anyway. He's more or less middle management as far as Watchers go, and I tend to concern myself with either the on-the-ground agents or the executives. I'm not entirely sure what his job with respect to the Watchers entails. He's in that fuzzy gray area where he could be very much involved with the agents under him, or just a parasite on the chain of command. That leaves a bit too much room for error on my part, and I'm beginning to think better of this meeting at all.

I pull out my cell phone and hope my usual "Minister of Watcher Affairs" as I tend to think of him is awake at this hour.

"Jerome Vaughn."

He sounds awake. "Tudor." That's the most recent one-use password. Combined with vocal recognition software it's enough to forgo longer, more cumbersome security measures. "I need a secure transmission of everything we have on Watcher agent in charge of the Brooklyn area. Unless I'm mistaken, his name is James Roman."

"Landline or satellite?"

"Satellite. I'm in a hurry, I'll risk the security breach." We try to use as secure a means of communication as possible. No one needs to tell me how insecure cell phone transmissions are, but this is pretty low-level information I'm asking for, and the actual data will be arriving via a more secure, encrypted method. "And make sure you throw a bonus at whoever actually worked on the file." Jerome only moonlights as my Reputable Source of All Things Watcher, he's a tax attorney, and a lot of his information comes from his underlings and various other sources. I have few full time spies, although I take my intelligence accuracy and completeness very seriously.

"Will do." I can hear a smile in his voice. "You should have it in five minutes tops."

Jerome is as good as his word. Scanning the file on my PDA I find my instincts were pretty accurate. Jimmy Roman - middle management not only in his Watcher capacities, but also in his rather antiquated movie rental business, with all the family, money, and job satisfaction problems that implies. He probably is very ineffectual in his Watcher job, giving his underlings headaches because he thinks he knows better than they do and his bosses cavities as he tries to rise through the ranks by a combination of bootlicking and taking credit for his subordinates' success. He won't take kindly to my meddling, and if it weren't for the fact that he'll probably divulge useful information in the heat of argument I would go back to my apartment right now and try to find another way of tracking the rogue Watcher. There are plenty of ways for me to find the girl, but I want someone to take all this out on and Roman seems a worthy straw man. Besides, I pump enough money into the Watcher organization; I can afford to poke a stick in their anthill once in a while, or at least vent some frustration on one of their deadweights.

Roman's office is up a few flights, and his secretary looks more like eye candy than a useful member of staff. Instead of insisting I need an appointment or calling security, she goes to get her boss when I prove belligerent. Roman is annoyed by the disturbance and threatens to fire her for the however many-th time. He sees me, and immediately tries to figure out if he's slept with me. Gritting my teeth, I move past him into his office.

"I have a bone to pick with you, Roman," I say as I pass him in his doorway.

He follows me into his office, more ruffled, but letting his curiosity get the better of him. He shuts the door with a little more force than necessary and moves back towards his desk and takes his seat, trying to defend his little mountain.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of this disruption?"

"You've only your own incompetence to thank! You're _supposed_ to keep your agents in line. They're _supposed_ to keep their personal grievances out of their business, and it's _your_ responsibility to make sure that they do."

He blinks, initially at a loss. It takes him a minute to realize I'm talking about Watchers. When he does, he glances at my wrists, which my shirt and coat cover. He thinks I'm someone new working for his boss(es). This is a bit unfortunate, as if he thinks he needs to impress me he won't divulge information as readily. I'm not about to disillusion him, but I'm not quite sure how to get him to tip his hand. I'm trying to figure out how to point out that if I worked for the Watchers, I would have made an appointment.

"Well, as I'm sure you know, this sort of incident has happened before, and will again. Containment is always a sticky issue and may take some time. It would certainly help if I had more say in the recruitment process."

He has no idea what I'm talking about. Perfect, making him seem an idiot should elicit the response I'm looking for. "Do you have _any_ idea what I'm talking about?"

He turns red, getting angry and defensive. "These are _my_ people and _my_ jurisdiction! What the hell business is it of _yours-_"

"Your jurisdiction, huh? So tell me, Roman, did _you_ order two potential recruits murdered? Or was that just one of _your_ agents making a call? I'd _really_ like to know if you let this one slip through the cracks or if you've gotten so out of control that you don't even bother to arrange accidents anymore!"

He still has no idea what I'm talking about, but something's clicked. I was right, there's a rogue agent running around, and he was probably warned, as were all the other middle management types of the city. He sees an out, but is still mostly concerned about being held responsible.

"Now look! I took the necessary security measures! No one said anything about what she intended to do! I assumed if she was that dangerous, the police would have been notified. Since I'm not in a position to notify them, you can't _really_ expect me to have done anything! As I understood it, the main concern was containing the potential recruits if they declined membership."

"So your solution to 'containing' them was to have them murdered in full view of the public? Even if the police are cooperative, it's still a complete waste of resources and human life. You know how delicate dealings with potential recruits need to be! This goes _well_ beyond excessive force!"

"Wait just a damn minute! _My_ agents didn't kill anyone! All _I_ was told to do was track the two recruits and the Pao girl. No one said anything about containing her! I sent my best agents after the recruits, and I still haven't gotten their report back. Last I heard the girl was heading for Canada. I was told not to crowd her, otherwise there would be more detailed surveillance!"

My suspicions are confirmed. It's Pao. Although why she's lighting off for Canada is beyond me. Unless she's going on foot…

"Well, you've sure made a mess of things!" He's also itching to get on the phone so he can see if what I've said is true. I hope it's concern for the lives of his agents and not desire to prove himself right, that there really wasn't anything he could have done with the information he was given. At least I know Pao wasn't one of his agents, and was just shadowing the recruits here. "You fucking idiot!" It's about time to reveal that I'm not actually a Watcher. "Look, just pass on the word to your bosses that they should have better screening tests for their recruits. That girl should have been contained _long_ ago. She's been a huge liability to you all from the moment she joined. There's no excuse for the slip-shot way this whole situation has been handled! I realize there's no way you could have kept those two dipshits from seeing what they saw, but there were a hundred different ways you could have quieted them, or discredited them, or otherwise kept them out of trouble!"

Roman's getting it now. I'm still really pissed off and want to rant some more, but I really ought to get out of here before he puts two and two together, even though he probably won't add it up correctly, anyway.

"Who are you?" he says, looking much more scared than when he thought he would be held responsible for the containment breach.

I roll my eyes, not even dignifying that with a response. It's either obvious or it's not, and I'm not going to spell it out for him. "Watchers!" I say with all the contempt I can muster, which is considerable and not entirely a put on. I storm out, hoping to pick up Pao's trail, cold though it is. I just hope I'm not too late.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Children 

About the same time I was learning that kicking the world only gets you broken toes, my tribe as I guess you'd have to call it was getting broken toes of its own. I was off elsewhere in the world, so I didn't learn all this until later, but at that time power struggles had become unusually serious.

What sex is today in Western culture, or maybe just American culture, death was to us. Sex to us was just part of life, like eating and shitting. Death is, of course, inevitable, and is just the natural conclusion of life, but we couldn't quite get over it. Death was all around us, but it _bothered_ us like you wouldn't believe. We had some of the same defense mechanisms westerners have against sex. We didn't talk about it. We used euphemisms. We whispered about it like it was dirty. We told our children it was wrong to think about it or talk about it. Death was something dirty and shameful. We didn't speak of the dead, or name them. It was considered the worst kind of blasphemy to speak of the death we caused by hunting and eating. We needed those deaths to live, to survive, but this _bugged_ us so much that "religious" schools of thought circulated to excuse or explain it, almost all of which dictated how much you could speak of such things. Some went to great lengths detailing how and why and when you could kill animals, and touch them, and prepare them for food. Others regarded even speaking that much about it scandalous. Funerary rights were negligible, and often consisted of several of the least liked adults of the time being assigned the nefarious task of disposing of the body.

Death was omnipresent in the human population, as well as the animal. Only about half of newborns survived their first year of life, and very few adults lived to have gray hair. Physical injury was the most common cause of death, although our malnourished state, unbalanced diet, and complete lack of medical knowledge didn't help. Winter was probably the second biggest killer, although the fluctuations of the hunting prospects and weather-related food scarcity could have contended. It wasn't just us against the elements, either. We were against each other a good portion of the time. Murder is too strong a word, but a fight could often result in the death of one or both of the participants. It was usually just a matter of how slowly they died. I suppose that's the real problem; we were all dying, we all knew it, but we just couldn't accept it.

The outbreak of fighting that overtook my tribe was basically the result of three men and two women vying for alpha status. My father was one, and I hold him primarily responsible. He was in power for a long time. Five years almost, no small feat. But more than that he was a tyrant. He enjoyed abusing his power. But this caught up to him when he started getting too arthritic to physically compete with some of the younger men. He was young by today's standards, and his arthritis came mainly from badly healed bones rather than from age. In any event, two contenders had gathered a fair amount of the hunters' support, which if it had been one of them would have been a deathblow to my father's power. Luckily for him, he was in a position to play them off each other, for a while anyway. He also had to deal with the midwife. She was sort of like the matchmaker in Fiddler on the Roof; a widow, a grandmother, well respected in the tribe, and _very_ opinionated. Plus she had a crucial skill, and was more or less indispensable. She also at that time had chose to team up with a self-proclaimed holy woman. Not exactly a believable character, but she was eccentric enough and made enough predictions that she had a following. So my father was hard put to it.

In the end, they tore each other apart. Worse, their respective supporters tore each other apart, as well. Fights were common, several people died directly at the hands of their attacker, instead of later of infection or blood loss. Not that this hadn't happened before, but before it had been a once or twice in a lifetime occurrence rather than weekly. Although granted, a lifetime then encompassed only a decade or so rather than half a century or more. Usually in those sorts of power struggles, one person (or group) comes out more powerful than the others, and life continues. Unfortunately, no one really came out on top. In the end, my tribe was severely crippled by the loss of life, and who was in charge was almost a moot point. Our rivals, another tribe, who we competed with for hunting grounds and scavenged food, took advantage of our weakness and made slaves of not a few of our people. Although we had done the same to them when they had been weakened, and slavery had been a common custom before and was after. Time rolled on, and things balanced out in the long run, until the great equalizer we so feared would come at last.

I'm getting sick of shaking off tails. Not that I truly fear the pursuit, or worry about being observed, but actually getting rid of them is a bit of hassle. And worse, a waste of time. To be honest I don't know how they don't notice each other. Or, if they do know about each other, how they keep from getting in each other's way. Or if they _intend_ to get in each other's way, how they manage to keep up appearances so well. Or how they keep an eye on me and each other at the same time. Some are definitely more skilled than others. But they're all professionals, and if I wasn't so skilled at reading people I would have been hard pressed to loose all of them.

I've got four distinct tails pinned to my ass at the moment. One has been there for weeks and represents the current main concern in my life. The other three are only there because of my performance at the bar. One has been coming and going; I think their superiors are sending them mixed signals as to whether they're actually supposed to be tailing me or not. I think these are the Watchers, and if they don't back off in the next twenty-four hours I'll have to have Jerome put in a personal appearance to assert my freedom from observation. The second two are really serious about their work. I think they've been competing with each other, as well, but the main monkey wrench in their designs has been the Watchers, because the Watcher-tail is completely oblivious to the others, or else is really good at pretending. Anyway, no matter how many times I loose them, they keep showing up again, which is expected, but frustrating.

In a lull of footpad activity, I dial up Director Johanssen. I get his secretary to start with, but I identify myself as Special Agent Ramey, my current avatar with his organization, and since my call is expected I'm patched through.

"You're late."

"Good morning to you, too, Car."

"Report," he says in a less than amused tone.

I sigh. I suppress the urge to say something him about all work, no play, and Johnny Carson. "I'll be brief, I'm not sure how tight surveillance is on me." Meaning I can't risk saying anything important in case this phone conversation is recorded or they're otherwise observing me without the tails. All they need is line of sight and they can read my lips or simply record audio. "It was the second party. Probably a loose cannon. I'm initiating tracking now. I'll debrief you at our next scheduled appointment. And try to see if you can get some of this surveillance lifted, huh?" We had no next scheduled appointment. Meaning I'm going to be paying him a personal visit and he should expect me to turn up on a moment's notice. Hopefully I wouldn't have to leave him hanging for too long.

"Negative, you are not to initiate tracking, we'll take care of that." He suspects I'm personally involved, as well he might.

"Still my case. I'm in a better position to initiate anyhow. I'll contact you via Switzerland later tonight. You'd best prioritize it." Switzerland is his not-too-ingenious way of indicating a third, hypothetically neutral, party.

I can practically hear him sweating. "I'll try to do something about that surveillance."

I laugh, and genuinely, too. "Jesus, Car! Why don't you act like I scare you, you know, just a little, huh? I guess I'll have to practice being intimidating." I hang up before he can hear me laugh in earnest and before I have to realize that I'm wasting my sarcasm.

I turn into the public library to use the computers and hopefully loose two of the four that have resurfaced. My library card, unfortunately, is still under the name Andrea, which is an identity I'm not really supposed to be using anymore. Overuse of an identity makes tracing me too easy, and it's something I avoid when I can. But I don't have time to get a new one, so I just use it and hope for the best.

Once logged in to one of the library computers, I access my satellite website and hope I have enough time to actually look at the photos. If Pao is heading to Canada on foot, she'll still be in upstate New York and keeping to foot trails and access roads. I'm guessing the Catskills is a good region to start with, but there're bound to be plenty of people roaming around. My search algorithms are pretty advanced, so I give it a shot. I wait impatiently as the server cycles through the decryption with the keys I give it, but the search is quick enough to make up for it. Unfortunately, the library computer is slower to download the images than I expect. Cursing in several languages, I scan the library for my tails. One pair come in, and I can see one of them looking for me unobtrusively while the other makes a mental note to subpoena the library's computer records and video surveillance for the day. I roll my eyes and glance back at the screen, but I'm disappointed to see progress hasn't been made. Well, I might as well let the other tail arrive before dodging them, too. I never intended simply entering the library to loose them, I'll have to do that in the upper floors amongst the books.

By the time my images download, the second tail has shown up, now having dwindled to one person. I assume the rest of them are stationed at the exits or decided to stagger their entrance. One of the first tail is trying to get a good vantage point to see what I'm doing, so I hurry up and give my satellite pictures my personal attention. There are several likely candidates for Pao, but I nothing conclusive. To be honest, I don't think any of them are Pao. No matter how small, the images don't have the right proportions or something to be. I've used these satellite photos a lot, and even though I can't be more than 70 certain of my identifications, I've gotten good at it. I want to spend more time looking, but I should get off before that tail behind me gets a better view of what I'm working on. So, I close the window, delete the history files, and relay an instruction to my satellite server to fill this computer's cached memory with fluff and hope it's enough that no one will be able to recover what I was up to, for a while anyway.

I take off for the upper floors and begin the waltz of tying my tails in knots.

I've pissed off a large number of people in my time. At one time I'm pretty sure I had more enemies than God. Nowadays, their numbers have dwindled enough that I can keep track of them without much trouble. There was a time, not so long ago, that I hoped one of them would come for me and I could let it all be over. There's not much hope of that anymore. Until recently, I thought all the enemies I had that actually had a claim on my life were dead. The rest are just a byproduct of being alive. It's really hard to go through life without pissing _anybody_ off. Most of my enemies nowadays are political enemies and rivals. Some of them want me dead, but it's more because I have some power, and that's threatening.

But then someone resurfaced whom I had assumed dead. She swore vengeance once upon a midnight dreary, but up until two and a half weeks ago I hadn't seen or heard a sign of it. She finally caught up with me, and as she so swore, her vengeance begins with killing, or probably torturing and then killing, those I love. Those two souls that lost their lives in a seedy bar witnessed her killing someone who had information on me, which is how they got involved in the first place. Poor bastards, all they did was join a terrorist organization, spy on world governments, and watch their leader die at the hand of a Fury. Not that they were innocents, but they were young and stupid, and I can imagine how terrified they must have been to get from Louisville Kentucky to a safe house in New York in a matter of hours. They probably thought they were out of the woods, too, to be out in the bar instead of in the safe house. To be honest I haven't given them more than a few passing, pitying thoughts.

What I've given more thought to is what will happen when she and I meet. I've been so involved with current events that I haven't given too much thought to the past. She has a legitimate claim on my life. It might be the last opportunity for justice.

So, the hunt is up. I'm being hunted and hunting, all while dancing an unnecessarily complicated and laborious dance with my career. Even as I evacuate the library, I'm considering walking back, confronting my tails and saying "Look, this has nothing to do with you, just buzz off and I'll call you when it's back to business as usual." I'm not actually going to do that but it's fun to imagine the panic and incredulity on their faces.

Well, for better or for worse, Pao's trail is going to be too time consuming to pick up today. Time for some reconnaissance to find out what everybody else involved knows about her. That might be easier, as they may have been keeping tabs on her since she killed those men. It's also more complicated that way, because there are so many parties involved. But it's worth it. If none of them have any better idea of where she is than I do, we're on a level playing field and I can pick up the search at the Canadian border where it'll be much easier. If they have more information than I do, I need it and they're probably the fastest way of gathering it.

So, time to play phone tag. Checking that I don't have any new tagalongs at regular intervals, I make my way to NYU campus. This is strictly farther than I need to go given time constraints, but I want a redundantly secure phone line, and given that I don't often spend much time in the city, or even in the state, it's the one place I feel secure with. One of my identities is a "student" there, although technically she's taking this year off. I also feel better using this identity as I haven't used it much. After tonight I should probably retire her, along with Andrea. So I find the right phone in one of the computer labs and go about securing it.

By the time I manage this, it's late at night and I'm starving. But having secured the line, I don't want to do something monumentally stupid like leaving the thing free while I go hunting for a vending machine. So I try to ignore it and begin a series of long phone calls in various languages. I always relay important instructions through people who speak unusual languages for the region I'm in. In the States, this is easy. I pick Bulgarian and call someone who speaks it to relay my message. Then Sidamo. Then Min Bei. Their lines are all more secure than mine, although since they're in regular use have a higher probability of being tapped. I've had to work very hard in recent years to keep that sort of thing from happening, but it's still a possibility to consider. Anyway, my requests are now in the pipeline, and I can have a real meal before returning to the endeavor of saving my children.

I left the city in the turmoil of assassinated leaders and exposed plots. The powerful were laid low that night, but I left my friends to be buried in the rubble. It was a stupid, unfeeling thing I did, abandoning human decency in an attempt to expose the corruption and torpidity of a republic turned aristocracy. My friends didn't deserve it. They were scheming, too, but they truly wanted to kick the world and have it move instead of breaking their toes. Well, they moved the world, but I stepped on their feet and broke their toes in a hurry to get out of the way of the moving world.

After that, I fell into a black despair. I traveled far south, hoping to find my way home at last. Instead, I met some highway robbers, some wandering merchants, and a few nomadic people who didn't like the look of me. I met a few enemies, we fought, but my heart wasn't in it. I should have died then. I still don't understand why one of those enemies never managed to kill me. In the state I was in, it should have been easy. Well, easier. Easy enough. I don't know how long I went on like that, but something finally shook me out of it. Disgusted with myself, I decided some mindless wandering was in order, and took to the road again. Well, I traveled a few miles away from the road, so as to avoid other travelers. Which was how I met the first child I ever loved.

The road once led through jungle, but then it was savanna and becoming drier all the time. Not the kind of land you'd find rice farmers on. But there they were, trying to find a way to make a living on some high, dry, slightly more forested land, and I was fascinated. They were clearly trying to stay away from the road and civilization in general, at some cost to their health. Wisely, they had given up on rice and were trying to grow a variety of grains. They were an old couple, maybe in their fifties, but looking much older than that. As I approached, the husband stopped dead in his tracks and stared and stared at me. The wife, who had been working outside, tried to sneak back into the house without being noticed, a baby on her back. The baby started to cry, ruining her attempt. I knew they wanted to be left alone and were terrified of me, but I couldn't help it. I felt drawn to them, and as approached the husband I knew that no matter how unwelcome I was, they weren't about to neglect the tradition of hospitality.

He surveyed me, looking worried, and I tried to smile and show that I was a kind person, but my heart was breaking. They were just so… defenseless. And so scared. I thought I could put my finger on the reason; there was something odd about their child, which they were trying to hide from the world. I could see on their faces the long stretch of their lives that consisted of worrying for their child, and wishing passionately to do something and being unable.

When they had gotten over their shock, they were indeed hospitable, and I stayed the night with them. The next day, I offered to help the husband in the fields as payment for their hospitality. At first they were alarmed, but they agreed. Days went by like that. Days that I spent building their trust, reassuring them that I understood, without them having to say anything. Then days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. I watched their child closely without seeming to. He never grew, even though he looked to be only a month or so old when I arrived. But I acted like it was perfectly normal, never commenting on it, just watching and reassuring them. I never spoke of it, and neither did they. I wondered how old their son was, how many years had passed with a fitful infant in the house. I wept sometimes thinking of it, I still do. Their anxiety was so marked; I could see the growing concern on their mind had been what would happen to their child when they died. Which, although they weren't old, was not far away.

The husband had terrible jaw and hip pains, and before long he was barely helping me with the farming, although I didn't mind, because I could see how much he wanted to, and how much it shamed him that he couldn't. He had difficulty eating. The wife has asthma and no medication, and probably had some other pulmonary disease as well, because she frequently sounded as though she had water in her lungs and would cough. And their son… he was no relation to me, and yet I felt so _drawn_ to him, I felt maternal for the first time in my life. I took as good a care of them as I could. But neither husband nor wife survived the winter.

Her husband died first, became sick shortly after the seasons changed. He had given up on life, it seemed. He was nearly blind, a condition that had come on strangely rapidly. She died later, drowning inside her own body. She fought long and hard. I truly admired her, and felt ashamed that if death had come to me like it had to her, I would have opened my arms to it. Before she died, she made me swear that I would protect her son, and it was the only time she spoke of that which made her son different.

"Please," she said, "I know he will never grow up, it has been many years since I hoped he would, but please, protect him! Swear to me, please, swear you'll care of him as if he were your own."

I nearly dissolved into tears. "I swear, I will care for him as if he were my own." Released from her burden, she smiled, and cried, and soon fell asleep and never awoke.

On the hill overlooking their home and their fields, I buried them. I brought their son with me, strapped to my back, and he cried and cried as if he felt as aggrieved as I did. I knelt at the foot of their graves and sobbed like their child. When my tears were finally spent, I just sat and stared, as the light faded and dusk approached. Finally, I took their son off my back and set him on the ground between their graves.

I smoothed what hair he had down onto his head. "Gift from the Heavens, your parents loved you, and so do I. But I swore to care for you as my own, and I am so bound. I don't know if you understand me, I don't think you do, but just in case, I want you to know that you can go be with your parents now. They're waiting for you, let's not keep them waiting."

Tear still running down my cheeks, I drew my dagger from its sheath and sent the gift from the heavens back to the heavens, where his parents waited.

I've never managed to disentangle myself from my spy games, but I try very hard to keep my children from getting entangled. It almost always works. I know that they're still a form of leverage that makes them appealing targets for my enemies, but I've found ways of keeping them secret from my enemies, or making them less appealing, or both. So it's very strange to me that it's now, when they're grown up, that they're under real threat. Although I still think of them as being very close to me, they've grown up and lead lives of their own. That distance helps them from becoming entangled as adults, or so I thought.

Perhaps it's unfair of me to blame them, or their choices. It is, after all, not my political, every day enemies that have targeted them, but a mortal enemy out of my past. If I thought it would help, I would ignore my children and gun for her, hoping she would just be satisfied with me when pressed and so not bother with hunting my children. But I know better. She would hold me prisoner while she hunted for them, and wouldn't kill me until they were dead. Such is the way of revenge.

I consider how much blame I should apportion myself as I eat my way steadily through a hoagie. My diet has been reduced to pure caloric intake these past few weeks. I briefly consider if I could have found a healthier option that would have sufficed, but decided the only way to have done so would have taken too much time. At least my requested information is beginning to trickle in. I down the last of my hoagie in a rather large bite and focus on my PDA. The data is encrypted, but the decrypted version is in code and in the languages I used earlier. I had intended to get some sleep on the train but this can't be disregarded, so I concentrate and try to ignore how thirsty I am.

The FBI has not been alerted to Pao's presence. They _have_ been alerted to mine, now, however. They seem to understand the murders to be outside of their jurisdiction, which I find odd, as I haven't leaned on them yet. I suppose someone is leaning on them, but it's unclear as to who. The Watchers are completely confused. Their information was sadly the easiest accessed, and it seems there have been many miscommunications as to whether they should be watching me or not. That should clear itself up, but there is a distinct lack of information about Pao. At the end of that report, however, is a note that more information will be on its way concerning the "rogue" Watcher. I suppose her file was harder to pull than mine, which is again disconcerting. But then, it's not my _file_ that was discovered, just many communiqués concerning me. The strange thing is that Watchers don't seem to be leaning on the police at all. Apparently that roll is or was being taken up by Army Intelligence of all people. I wonder who arranged that, as the Army was in no way involved, except by periphery. Possibly the intention is to stir up trouble between the executive and legislative branches of the government, and that sort of finesse is indicative of the CIA. _Fuckers_. I work with them often, but they drive me insane.

Needless to say, my CIA information hasn't arrived yet. That will probably take the longest, but unless it contains a cornucopia of surprises, it can wait.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Playing 

My first kill was a kid about the same age as me. He had wrapped a garroting wire around my throat and almost snapped my neck. I stabbed him in the stomach, and then when he let go I turned and stabbed him three more times in the chest. His intention had been to steal my water skin and blanket. I didn't have any food, or water for that matter, but neither did he. I had been lucky to come by both the water skin and the blanket. I had wandered the "desert" for weeks before I finally found civilization other than my own. I found a dead man, dead probably for weeks, took his belongings, which consisted of said water skin and blanket, and in addition a stained but useable tunic and a crude stonework knife of dubious usefulness.

But, it was useful enough to kill my attacker. At the time, I barely considered what I had done. I wasn't hungry enough at that time to eat him, so I left him and moved on in search of food, water, and better land. At the time, I hadn't even been afraid. Surprised, yes. Aware of mortal danger, yes. Afraid, no. I had not hesitated to kill, even if it was in self-defense. Stabbing him multiple times ensured his quick death. If I hadn't he would have died a longer, and intensely painful death. But that did not occur to me, not even afterwards. At the time, I simply struck back when struck, and struck hard enough that my attacker would _not_ attack me again. I felt no regret, and I didn't give the boy another thought until years and years later.

When I did, and when I do, I wish with every fiber of my being that I could change what happened. I've come up with all sorts of scenarios; I give him the water skin, I find him before he finds me, I pay attention to the noises around me and disarm him. I've invented hour-long conversations with the boy, although we never exchanged words, and even if we had I'm not sure we would have spoken the same language. Most of the time I forgive myself. I was young and inexperienced in a hostile environment. Sometimes, although rarely, I find I am at peace with this action of mine. If ever he and I meet in an afterlife, I can look him in the eye, figuratively anyway.

But I will never forget how casually I took my first human life.

I'm fighting off sleep now. I got maybe… fifteen minutes' worth on the train? I can pull this off for another day maybe, but then my work is going to start to suffer. Best to try to fit a two or four hour session in somewhere.

Upstate New York. Somewhere in this parking lot I've got a car parked. Maybe I should just take a cab. But best not to involve more people than necessary. I'm not sure when my tails are going to emerge. It should be down to three now. From the Watcher communiqué it sounds like they've finally established that they're supposed to leave me alone. I glance at my PDA again. No new information, but I should give it time. Time isn't really expendable at the moment, but I don't think there's anything I can do about it. Imposing myself on the situation will only draw attention to me and what I'm doing and will probably not get any faster results.

I find the car, "convince" the lock to open, then take longer finding the keys under the seat then if I'd just hotwired it. Cursing all the delays, I start up the car and blast the air conditioner to keep awake. I don't really need it, but it's helpful. I try to keep my thoughts on the information I received earlier, but thoughts are stubborn things with lives of their own (I'm quite convinced), and before long they're dwelling on Pao. Why did she go to the Watchers? Was it to keep an eye on me? They don't keep records on me, or if they do they're in big trouble. Was it to watch the others, so if one of them finally got me, she'd know about it? Was she abusing her position? She had recently, but the circumstances were pretty extenuating. Was she turning on them now, or working under someone else's orders, or just covering for someone, or for me? What's all this Canada nonsense? Misdirection? Misinformation? Does she have an accomplice, or a boss there? She's awfully independent… if she's working with someone it's likely she's being coerced or is doing the coercing. If she had left on any flights to China I'd know about it by now. Unless we missed one of her pseudonyms. Always a possibility.

I consider the possibility of convincing someone to do the satellite analysis for me. It would save me a considerable amount of time, but I'm the one with the surefire intuition. I wish I had picked up her trail sooner; it would have saved a lot of hassle and worry. A sudden thought hits me with the force of a jackhammer. _Ben!_ He used to take business trips up to Canada all the time! Not strictly in the Ontario area, but he'd been enough times to feel comfortable there. Although he lives in Nevada now.

I whip out my cell phone and dial a South African contact.

"Toby! Toby, quick, I need a secure line." I shouldn't be doing this. My cell is protected as best as it can be, but it's still a glorified transmitter, and there's no way to be sure who's listening.

"Are you on a mobile?"

"Yes! Please, as secure as you can make it, and now."

He makes a disapproving noise. "You know I can't guarantee anything."

"Yeah, yeah. What part of _now_ didn't you understand?"

He snorts, unperturbed by my irritation, which is why I work with him. "At the click."

I wait, trying to concentrate on the noise on the cell phone and not in the car. Finally I hear the click of a transferred call.

_Ring._ Please be there, Ben, I plead with my head. But some time in listening to the static, I know he's not there. _Ring. _Well, I don't know, it's just instinct, but like I said, my instincts are better than most people's logic. Actually, that's not saying much. Fine, my instincts are better than most logic. Period. _Ring. _But I'm not going to hang up until I have confirmation.

"Hello?" A tired, female voice answers.

Ben's wife. She sounds older than I remembered. Probably because she _is_ older than I remembered, but I'm supposed to be concentrating on her. "Mrs. Baucum?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour." I glance at the clock. It's only about eleven p.m. Well, it's late for retired people. "I'm calling for Mr. Baucum. Is he available?"

"No he isn't, can I take a message?" Oh fuck fuck fuck.

"I'm afraid I need to contact him as soon as possible. Could you tell me when he'll be available?"

"No, but I can have him return your call if you leave a number." Smart girl. I smile appreciatively. Her voice belies her anxiety, but only to the trained ear. She's covering for Ben. He should have given her some better instruction on voice stressors.

I give her a number that will eventually get the caller in touch with me. "Ask for Officer Annersen. Can you tell me where he is, Mrs. Baucum? This is very important."

She hesitates. Bad move. "What is this regarding?"

"I'm working on a case involving Mr. Baucum's former boss. I wouldn't ask if it weren't important." I take a minute to make sure I'm phrasing things right. When impersonating a police officer, it's best to do a good job.

Again she hesitates. This time it's alright, though; she could be digesting the implications of that. "He's out of town at the moment, perhaps you should speak with him when he returns." My stomach twists uncomfortably around that hoagie.

I let only the disappointment resonate in my voice, and then only a mild amount. "Thank you, Mrs. Baucum, I hope I'll speak to him soon."

As soon as I hang up, I give Bern a call. I guess Pao really is headed for Canada.

I sat on a cold rock, glaring gloomily into the creek. My thighs were still hurting and my back was beginning to itch. _Good_, I thought bitterly, _it'll get infected and then all that work will be ruined_. That turned out to be too much to hope for.

Hitthu came walking down by the creek, fixing me with that horrible understanding gaze of hers.

"You're overreacting, you know," she said, sitting down next to me.

I wasn't in the mood for companionship. "Easy for you to say. Just go away, I don't want to talk to you. Or at all. Just go."

Instead she leaned back and looked up at the sky. "The clouds. They go by so fast."

Her point was far from lost on me. "Memories are mountains, not clouds. No matter how far away you get, they're still there, and still just as big." I threw her a look with as much bile as I could muster.

She just laughed at me. "All of us have been shamed at one time or another. People forget. It won't be forever, your patriarch is getting old."

I glared at her, truly angry with her now. "Your shame had no such dire consequences, did it?"

She looked startled. "Are you forgetting-"

"Don't be a fool. You know I don't forget," I interrupted. I looked away, trying to hide the full extent of my anger and shame. "This _is_ forever. You would do well to stop being my friend. You'll only get trouble for it, and I won't be able to help anymore, or return the favor."

Part of me really wanted her to insist that she would never abandon me. But the rest of me knew that if she did, our friendship would come at a very high price. An ongoing one. Even if a power shift was brought in on a new wind, my status would be unlikely to change. This was one case where I knew if I kicked the world I'd break my foot. And worse, so would Hitthu. We just weren't that good of friends.

She stood up and looked down on me, her gaze evaluative. I refused to meet her eyes; instead I stared pointedly at the creek. Finally she spoke.

"But mountains are clouds, too." She walked away, and stayed away.

I run up the stairs of this boring suburban house I plan to call home for a day, maybe two. I'm anxious to get inside so I can make more calls without being concerned about the insecurity of cell phones. I've been in this house once before, but I don't have the key. Undeterred, I pick the lock as discretely as I can and make my way inside, trying to remember the furniture layout and where I'll find the phone. I hurry to the phone, set up the computer, and as soon as I'm sure the line is as secure as I can make it, I start making phone calls again.

More information arrives on my PDA, but it's about Sonny's street criminals and is pretty predictable. I'm a bit surprised this took so long, but then I suppose Sonny doesn't keep as good of records as, say, the Watchers. Nevertheless, I make a mental note that this information might be faulty, and to check on the investigators ASAP. Then it's back to the rounds as I mobilize people to locate Ben.

I still can't believe I hadn't thought of him sooner. He's a target as much as Pao, although she did kind of stick a bull's eye around her neck by joining the Watchers. Stupid girl. But if I can find Ben, Pao won't be far behind. Except she _is_ traveling on foot, or was. I wonder if I should be concerned that looking for them will put them in greater danger of being found by someone else first. Well, it shouldn't stop me from looking for them, but it's imperative I proceed with caution. Maybe I should be doing the Ben inquiries myself and leaving Pao to delegation. She _did_ do the incredibly stupid when she murdered those two saps.

I put the phone down for a minute and sigh. Sleep deprivation dulls my instincts. I should know better. Alright, time to trust my instincts. Keep looking for Ben and Pao like I have been. Maybe get some help with the satellite photos. Pin a tail on Ben's wife to keep her safe. Okay, phone time again.

Another three hours and what do I get, another night older and deeper in fret. I stretch, check my PDA again, worry briefly that I haven't gotten any more information packets, then let myself crash on the couch. Two hours sleep, like I promised myself.

My mother was a beautiful woman. She was tall, like me. Well, tall for our people. She had a natural presence, a natural confidence. If she'd been taller, she would have been the envy of every ballerina everywhere. She danced like dancing was living. She loved it. She inspired me to love it. Even when I was a better dancer than she was, she was more beautiful to watch. Or at least I thought so.

We would dance around the fire on festival nights. Some of the other women would usually join us, and always the slaves. Some of the men made what we passed off as music. Those were the best times of my life. We would be well fed for once, and practically drunk off the feeling of a full belly. They were celebrations of life, and we sure tried to suck the marrow out of it. Usually the dancing dissolved into sex, but my mom and I would dance for so long that there was usually no one for us to partner with. We'd finally just lay down on the ground and look up at the stars and fall asleep to dream that we were still dancing.

Later, when I was made a slave of my own people, I was required to dance, and to have sex with any man around the fire who felt like grabbing me. Most of the time it wasn't so bad. It wasn't meant to degrade me, or anything like that; it was just a life and fertility ritual. It was simply compulsory for me. The men I had sex with generally didn't feel any need to dominate or humiliate me. A few did. When that happened, I would imagine I was still dancing around the fire, and that my mom was with me. I always imagined her with me when I danced. She made me keep loving it, even when those men should have made me stop.

When I fell in love, memories of those encounters should have generated some less than healthy thoughts about sex, but they didn't. I could give myself completely to him, and not just physically. The loss of the one person in my childhood that loved me unconditionally should have made me hesitate before falling so hard for someone, but it didn't. My mother taught me to love life, and love dancing, and no pain, no trauma could take away that joy.

Or so I thought.

Finally. The rest of the Watcher report and the CIA information had come while I was asleep. I pick up my PDA and quickly read through the files.

The Watcher, Pao Yng, had been assigned to someone named Le Pai. In China. How she had ended up taking the trip stateside was a mystery to them; she had stopped sending in her reports a month ago, although nothing in her reports to date had indicated Le Pai had been aware of her spying, nor that anything else was amiss. Le Pai was still in China, with a new Watcher assigned to him. She had reappeared suddenly in Louisville. A Watcher had tailed his assignment to a warehouse (I roll my eyes at the stereotype) where some sort of meeting or trade was taking place. A weapons smuggler was present. The tone of the Watchers' discussions about the smuggler indicated that they thought he was more or less a petty criminal.

I know differently. I don't recognize his pseudonym, but I recognize the description and the MO alright. He's a big time arms dealer for certain terrorist organizations, and a few governments to boot. He was meeting with this Watcher's assignment, and two of his new lackeys were there, although it doesn't really seem clear why. The Watcher wasn't near enough to hear the conversation, and didn't really seem to know what business the two had together. They had barely gotten introductions out of the way when a woman I recognize immediately barged in. Anyway, she attacked the arms dealer, and his two lackeys scatter, thinking the dealer's dead. It didn't take them too long to realize the dealer's not her target; it was rather the person they met. Being the curious fools they were, they hid and watched. To make a long story short, she killed their contact and confronts the Watcher. The man panicked and tried to leave, but luckily it didn't cost him his life. She bullied him and then left him cowering on the warehouse floor. The poor man was supposed to approach the two lackeys, but between mastering his own fear and confusion and getting the arms dealer an ambulance they slipped through the cracks.

The Watchers weren't too concerned; they tried to pick the two up. Unfortunately, the two were so spooked that they had headed for New York. Instead, they found Pao sniffing around. It took them so long to figure out who she was and that she wasn't actually supposed to be there that she gave them the slip.

The whole story I had more or less pieced together already, but it does give me a few more points to investigate in the Watcher archives. The CIA information is much more detailed and engrossing. Their reason for following me, as I guessed, is simply that I work for them and am on leave. Technically I don't work _for_ them, although they like to think I do. Basically I work with them because they are one of the better-prepared organizations, and if I lead them to a potential problem or threat they're usually pretty efficient at dealing with it. However, they do have their limitations, and their own allies that I don't approve of. As is probably obvious, they aren't the only organization I work with. The problem is none of these organizations, CIA included, trust each other to any useful extent whatsoever. The CIA isn't really aware that I have these other affiliations, but they suspect them. As well they might. In any event, I may be an ally, but I'm not a trusted employee, and they apparently feel the need to keep tabs on me. Which, in turn, is why I obsess over security. It's not so much that I don't want them listening in on my conversations as I don't like the leaks in their system.

Luckily, I can exploit the leaks as well as anyone else can, and can find out just how much they know about my activities. They have a pretty detailed account of my activities, including my accessing satellite photos. They even have a few sound clips of me threatening that Watcher, Roman. What they don't have speaks volumes. They don't have any of my cell phone calls, except the one I made to Jerome before visiting Roman. They know I got on a train but not where I got off. Not yet anyway. They don't know what I learned from the barman, or if I learned anything at all, and they don't know what the hell I'm doing. They attempted to gain access to my PDA and failed. They're in the process of getting access to more of my cell phone calls, but the only luck they might have is with my call to Ben's wife. I hope they don't get that one, but it's possible. They managed to get onto the NYU computer I used, but too late, they got no useful information. Same with the library computer.

One thing I am particularly relieved about is that they seem to consider the possibility that I'm spying on them in turn as likely. If they didn't, I would suspect that they _knew_ I was spying and were feeding me information, and it would also indicate my sources were in danger. I don't have time for damage control so I hope it won't be necessary.

I continue reading the CIA file. More on Jerome Vaughn than I would have thought necessary. I suppose they're looking for leverage, or maybe they just want to see if he's more careless than I am. Ah, well, let them. He shouldn't need the heads up and he shouldn't be in any danger if he keeps his mouth shut. There's also a bit about my other tags. Not much in the way of personal information, but no doubt they'll get around to that. Anyway, it seems the Watcher tail was the most obvious and nearly exposed the CIA tail several times, although I'm pretty sure that was accidental. It seems I was right; the Watchers had been getting mixed signals as to whether they should stick to me or abort. I don't know how extensive the CIA's knowledge of the Watchers is, but after this encounter it can only have been improved. The two Watchers were only careful that I didn't hear their discussions.

The spooks also managed to connect the dots; they guessed I was visiting that bar because of the murders, but as usual with them two and two make five and the assumption was made that I'm involved with the arms dealer. This seems to have been questioned when their tags overheard some of the Watchers' discussions, but when they found out a Watcher was somehow involved in the head arms dealer's injury in Louisville (an incident they still don't have a good account of), they decided that clinched it. So now my dealings with said arms dealer and his organization(s) are being researched. I'm sure they'll find _something_ of interest; the dealer had a lot of clients, and I have my finger on a lot of pulses.

There are still some gaps in my intel, but nothing too worrying. I'm still waiting for my Bern information, but I don't expect that for hours. Time for satellite analysis. I sigh. I get the downloads started, then try to think of who I should recruit to help me with this. My first choice is an astronomer I discovered via SETI, but I'm going to have enough trouble waking anybody on the East Coast up. I suppose there's that MIT grad student… but last I checked he was a late night kind of guy. That data analyst expert, Harchet. He shouldn't be on sabbatical yet; he's usually in his office early. I find a good photo of Pao and email it to him, along with her height and weight, then give him a call.

"Hey Harchet, I just emailed you."

"Yeah, I noticed. Who is this?"

"Our newest target. Catskills region, starting from New York City sixteen days ago. Northward trending. Flag the photos if you find anything."

He sighs. "Am I on my own?"

"No, I'm working it, too."

This surprises him. "I thought you only delegated tall orders."

I grin. "I'm usually too busy with the impossible ones to help with the tall ones."

"Nothing impossible to keep you occupied?"

I snort. "This _is_ impossible. Come on, might as well dig in. Happy hunting."

So the hunt is on, in New York and Georgia. Hopefully our quarry is still in range.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Home

No one ever told me raising children would be so cathartic. I suppose that's why I found it so rewarding. Make no mistake; all children break their parents' hearts in the end. But there is a certain pleasure in it.

When I first saw Pao, she was barely two and looked younger. She didn't like me at all. It was probably from the long flight, and the fact that I'm pretty sure her escort had told her many times that the whole reason she had to stay in her seat in an uncomfortable room with nothing to do for hours on end was me. I impressed the escort, though. I think most people who adopt abandoned Chinese girls are middle-class WASPs who don't really know what they're getting into. Add to the fact that I'm neither Protestant nor Anglo-Saxon that I speak Mandarin without accent and that I don't look remotely frightened and I raised her estimation the escort's estimation of me by quite a bit.

Pao wasn't so easily won over. She steadfastly refused to go with me, and threw a fit when I tried to pick her up. The escort tried to help, but toddlers, traveling, and talking rationally don't mix. It took me nearly an hour to get her to my car, where after about five minutes she fell asleep. That was probably one of the easiest times I had when faced with Pao's stubbornness.

Another time, when she was fifteen, she fought me for weeks when I told her she couldn't go to the her friend's brother's birthday party. Which, by the way, was his twenty-first and held at a frat house. She argued with me about it long after it had come and gone, too. It got to the point where I actually refused to talk to her about it anymore because of how angry she would get. Finally she came home one night in tears, torn between sadness and rage. Shocked and concerned, I asked her what happened. After many tears and recriminations, she finally managed to relate how said friend wasn't speaking to her anymore, and had started a rumor about Pao. Apparently, her ex-friend got pretty drunk at the frat party and nearly had sex with a stranger. And blamed Pao for all this because she wasn't there.

"Were you going to the party to protect her?" She had never told me that.

"No."

Pao was always a responsible girl, but she was also pretty rebellious and I couldn't see her being the more sensible of the two of them.

"But you still think you should have gone."

"Yes!" But this was an answer out of stubbornness; she no longer actually believed it.

"I guess I should let you make more of your own choices, huh?"

She laughed through her tears. "Yeah right. When you do that, I'll start listening to you more!" She said it like she knew that would never happen.

As she grew up, I did let her make more of her own choices. By the time she went to college, I no longer tried to tell her what to do, except when she asked me. But she never did listen to me.

Harchet finds her first. In between pouring over satellite photos, I check the ones he's flagged. Around eight a.m. he sends me an email saying he has to get back to his actual job, but he'll keep working on it for me when he has a chance. That was about when I found Pao on one of his flagged photos. I email him back saying not to bother and thanks for the help.

Sure enough, Pao's on her way out of New York on foot. But if Ben is already in Canada, and it sounds like he is, she's probably going to hitch a ride somewhere. I consider where she might be meeting or taking transportation. She's avoiding the Watchers, so she'll probably avoid public transportation. If she was going to catch a plane she would have done so already. There's the possibility of hitchhiking, but that has a lot of chance factors involved, so she'll probably discount it. If she has help other than Ben, she may be meeting someone to give her a ride. Or she may be planning on borrowing a car.

I consider it, trying to figure out the best way to intercept her. There are a lot of ways for her to get out of New York, and even if I knew Ben's exact location, it's difficult to tell where she'll cross the border. I should concentrate of finding Ben and waiting for Pao to show up, but something doesn't sit right with me. Pao isn't concerned solely with the Watchers, or else she wouldn't go to the lengths of traveling on foot. The Watchers are good, but none of them are really professionals. Pao is really trying to shake off pursuit. Or maybe she's chasing someone who wants to loose her? A possibility.

Something alarmed Pao to make her ditch her assignment in China and kill two more or less harmless bystanders. She could be connected to the arms dealers. I rather doubt it though. It's much more likely this has something to do with the incident in Louisville. Why go after the two witnesses? The arms dealer was there, too, and she didn't kill him. Of course, he was wounded, so maybe he didn't actually see or hear anything. He might not even have been able to identify his attacker. I should look into that, actually. The Watcher saw everything, why didn't she go after him? Maybe she didn't know about him? She should have at least assumed there was a Watcher there that night, she knows how they work. The two witnesses could have been about to go public, although their actions say otherwise. That's why the Watchers wanted them dead, or otherwise contained, but Pao seems to have bigger concerns.

Maybe… maybe the attacker that injured the arms dealer and killed his contact got to them first? That could be Pao's primary target, but left no trail. If Pao assumed the two witnesses were being followed by the attacker, or she had some reason to believe so, she could have followed them hoping the attacker would expose herself. I still don't get why she would kill the two of them. So they wouldn't tell the attacker Pao had been asking questions? It seems a little extreme. I'm missing something, something big.

I sigh, and get on the phone again to set a few people on keeping an eye on Pao via satellite and hopefully getting a few people on the ground to tail her. If the on-the-ground agents are successful in keeping her under observation I'll make an appearance myself, but I doubt they will be. I don't want to waste time hunting Pao when she may suddenly show up in Canada. Well, part of me disagrees. I could easily track her down in the bush, much more quickly and quietly than any agents I send, as well. But my instincts tell me to back off, and I know better than to go against my instincts. I should figure out what it is I'm missing before I get too far from a secure phone line.

I go to take a shower and think it over. I'm still waiting on the Watcher information on that attacker, but I'm guessing I'm not going to have much luck. I'm not the only one who curries favors to keep the Watchers from watching me.

When I came to, I was laying on one of Ari's blankets by a smoldering fire. Trying to sit up, I felt lancing pain through my neck and shoulders. I groaned and lay back down.

"That was silly of you," a kindly voice said.

"Ari?"

"Yes, of course, who else would it be?" he said. I felt a water vessel at my lips and tried to drink.

"What happened? The last thing I remember was that pig, Klortainesha grabbing me."

I felt his hands holding one of mine. "You did a very silly thing. You followed me down to the river. Your patriarch and some of his hunters chased you."

I groaned and winced as a flash of a memory brings back a wave of pain. "They didn't hurt you, did they?"

I could hear a smile in his voice. "No, you didn't make it all the way down to the river."

Memories start to resurface. My father with a stick, one of the hunters jeering at me. The panic of having the wind knocked out of me. A condescending male voice saying, "You are an animal, not even worthy of dancing around our fires!" A stiff reed being broken across my back.

"Ari?"

"I'm here," he said, consolingly.

"D- did you hate me?"

"What?" He sounded shocked and confused.

"For letting Klortainesha have sex with me."

Ari sighed and moved closer. "Aiar. I love you. I have loved you since… since you told me how dancing makes you feel. I don't think anything will change that, not even death. I don't like seeing you have sex with anybody else, but it's not like you chose to. You're a slave. I wish I could save you from that. I wish it every day. As I know you wish you could save me from my difficulties every day. But you can't. I can't. And I'm not going to stop loving you because of that."

I felt my heart swell with love and gratitude, and despite having my eyes nearly swollen shut and not being able to move for bruising, I wished I could live in that moment forever.

"Now, do me a favor," he said with a bit of sarcasm. "Don't get yourself beaten up again."

I smiled, or tried to, and my lip cracked again and started bleeding. "At least I don't have to worry about having the child of Klortainesha of all people."

Apparently Ari didn't think it was funny. I was trying to make light of the situation, but he said, "You shouldn't joke about that."

I made a disgusted noise in my throat. "Ari, it's my damned problem, I'll make jokes about it if I want." Like people who have lived with chronic illness, I had a tendency to make morbid jokes about being barren.

"Yeah, well, have pity on me and make your jokes to yourself." He brought the water vessel to my lips again, and held my head so I could drink better.

Attempting to sit up resulted in nothing but redoubled pain, but I struggled up anyway. Ari tried to quiet me and get me to lie back down, but I was stubborn.

"Come on, you have better things to do today than watch me scab over."

He snorted in disbelief. "And what are you going to do? You couldn't see food if I waved it in front of your face!"

"I'm going to take a bath in the river. I feel like my muscles have a fever."

He laughed. "Not a chance. Here, if you feel too hot I'll bring you some cold water, but I don't think you should try walking yet."

I tried to hug him, but all I managed to do was pat his knee. "And what are you, a medicine man now?"

"Well," he said, still joking, but stiffening a little. "Since the healer won't treat you I'm the closest thing you've got." He kissed my forehead then stood up. "I'll bring you some water and we'll get you cleaned up. But no moving!"

Feeling comforted, but still horrible, I lie back down and tried to suppress the urge to vomit. A sudden, hopeful thought occurred to me then, that maybe my scars from this beating would hide some of my tattoos. For some reason, I never scarred.

A knock on the door gets me out of the shower a little early. Surprised, and initially suspicious, I dress quickly, not wanting to answer the door in a towel. Nevertheless, I don't have time to put makeup over the tattoos on my cheeks, neck, and hands. A long-sleeved, high-collared shirt is the best I can do.

Two police officers are at the door, squad car parked outside. Perplexed, I open the door, not bothering with the slide chain. If they're here to hurt me, the slide chain isn't going to be much resistance.

"Can I help you, officers?" I let my confusion show on my face and in my voice.

They start as they take in my unusual appearance. I'm not sure what they were expecting, but I gather a four foot nine brown girl with foreign looking tattoos and wet hair wasn't one of them.

"Yes, ma'am," the younger one recovers first. "One of the neighbors saw lights on and thought the house had been broken in to. Do you live here?"

"Oh!" This house isn't directly mine. It's the property of one of the businesses I have controlling stocks in. It's sort of a tax write-off and generally used once or twice a year for parties or retreats or something. I keep clothes here, and many places, but I've only been here twice before. "No, I don't live here, but I have permission to be here if that's what you mean. I'm only in town for a few days. Would you like the number of the firm that owns this residence?"

"Yes, ma'am, that would be helpful." The young cop sounds slightly southern.

I go to get my PDA, and they seem to think I invited them inside, I guess because I left the door wide open. Oh well, it's not a big deal. I ignore their slight rudeness as I click through menus. "Here you are." I offer them the number, and the older one writes it down.

"Can I use your phone?" the older cop asks. I'm slightly taken aback, but I agree.

"Sure, it's just through here." As I show him the phone in the kitchen, which is a separate and insecure line from the one by the computer that I've been using. When I get back to the foyer, the young cop is looking around, although more in a curious, polite way than a nosy cop way.

"Nice place," he says conversationally.

"Yes," I agree with a polite smile. I'm starting to get annoyed. I wasted enough time with a shower, I don't want to waste more because of nosy neighbors.

"You in town on business?"

"Yes," I say politely, trying to seem shy instead of obstructionist.

"What business you in?"

"Data analysis." It's true, even if not factual.

"Where do you normally live?"

"Ohio." I don't really, but that's the only place I have a permanent residence. It's still the same house that Pao grew up in.

"You travel a lot?"

I start playing with my wet hair, trying to play up my shyness. "Yeah, I guess."

The older cop returns, obviously satisfied with the results of his phone call. "Can we see some ID?"

"Sure," I say, quickly scrolling through my mental rolodex to find whatever identity owns the business that owns this house. I have about fifteen identities going at the moment, and try to keep as many forms of identification on me as possible. The problem with that is that if my pockets or wallet or purse were searched, I'd have to come up with a reason to have all those identities. My usual solution is to keep them sewn into the lining of clothes or purses, but ripping the seams of my coat to fish out a driver's license in front of two police officers is going to raise unwelcome questions, as well. Luckily, the ID I need is in a normal, albeit hidden, pocket of my coat. The cops watch me as I go into the next room, where the computer is, and fish it out of my coat.

"Here you are." I return and hand them the driver's license.

They seem mollified. "Sorry to bother you, Miss Patel."

"No trouble," I say, smiling through my rising impatience.

The officers leave, and I close the door behind them. At least they were legitimate cops. I half suspected they were masquerading so they could get into the house and kill me without witnesses. I wonder if they were here to plant a bug. Or tap the phone line? Well, if there's a bug I'm probably not going to find it without a sweep, and I don't have time. Besides, there's not much for them to listen in on. The phone tap is more easily confirmed. I move to the kitchen and check the phone jack.

Nothing there. I unscrew the mouthpiece. Nope. Could there be something else? I try to think what was out on the desk by the computer. Nothing looked disturbed. Could the younger cop have switched my PDA while I was showing the other one to the kitchen? I go to check. If they did, they'd be out of luck. That thing is massively password protected, it'd take them a week to break into it and I could get access to it remotely and delete everything before then. Nope, still my PDA. My cell phone? I don't know what they could gain by tampering with that. That's harder to tell. I'm pretty sure it's my cell.

I go back to the kitchen, nominally to get breakfast. I'm not satisfied. Am I missing something? I didn't detect any deception in them. Nothing seems to be disturbed in the kitchen. Should I check for explosives? They didn't seem nervous enough for that. Maybe someone was just using them to ascertain whether I was here or not. That sounds like something the FBI would do, or even the CIA. I wander back up to the bathroom to see if I can find a comb or a hairbrush before my hair dries. As I'm going back down, from the top of the stairs, I hear someone at the door again.

I freeze. That won't be the cops again. Where are my knives? With my coat. And to get to my coat I'd have to pass plenty of windows by the front door. I creep halfway down the stairs to the landing in a crouch. The banister provides me with enough cover and gives me a limited view of the door. Spooks. Now what could they want? I don't recognize any of them, and I couldn't put my finger on what exactly betrayed their affiliation, but I decide I have to at least give them the chance to explain their intrusion. My instincts urge me to caution, but not flight.

I stand up and go to the door. This time I use the slide chain, more as an indication that they're not welcome than an actual precaution.

"What do _you_ want?" I ask them, attempting to make it very clear I know who they are.

"I'm Agent Powel, these are Agents Orbanski and Jessup. We need to speak to you."

"Oh yeah? About what?" I'm guessing the cops were here to see if I was really here.

"Viktor Amundsen." The arms dealer that was injured. That didn't take them long. I expected them to shadow me for weeks to see what I would do. Do I actually have a stronger connection to him than I know? Begrudgingly I let them in, although I make them stand around in the foyer.

"I'm busy," I say forcefully. "Make it quick."

"Might I remind you that you are in the employ of the CIA and not-"

"Shouldn't this be under the FBI's jurisdiction? You're supposed to be concerning yourselves with _foreign_ matters." I'm really just trying to piss them off. I know that even if they didn't have some legitimate involvement with the arms smuggler, they can pretty much poke their nose in wherever they feel like, as long as whosever toes they're stepping on doesn't catch on.

"Excuse me, Miss Patel, but _we'll_ be asking the questions here."

I snort. "Don't _Miss Patel_ me. Now what do you want to know about Viktor Amundsen? I was under the impression he was in custody."

"Now how did you know that, Miss Patel? His location and condition are supposed to be classified."

"Yes, well, as I'm sure _you_ know, there was a rather big leak with respect to Viktor. Two of his associates fled the scene. My information comes indirectly from them."

"Indirectly? You mean you didn't kill them?"

I roll my eyes. "You know I didn't."

He raises his eyebrows. "There seems to be some confusion on that." He glares at me hard, and I return the stare. I'm not going to volunteer any information. When I prove unresponsive he continues. "What is your interest in this case?"

I had been formulating an answer to this question since I saw them at the door. I had expected this interrogation, but not for weeks yet. I just hope I've thought fast enough and thorough enough. But I might as well dance as long as possible. "Private." The CIA and I have a general understanding that I work freelance, and that as long as I don't countervail or undermine their interests and investigations, infiltrate the parts of their organization I'm not cleared for, or pass any information I get from them to any other organization, they don't ask questions and I volunteer nothing.

"Now, Miss Patel-"

"_Stop_- calling me that."

"Excuse me?" At first I suspect they're not really CIA, but then I realize he's toying with me, trying to provoke me into giving something away, or even just generally provoking me.

"My name is not Patel," I say in as icy a voice as I can conjure, which is considerable. "As you are fully aware."

"What shall I call you, then?" What exactly is he hoping to accomplish? Is he wired?

"Anna Heworth." I give him a steely grin. This is my most recent CIA pseudonym.

"Very well, Miss Heworth." He doesn't seem pleased. "May I remind you that espionage is not tolerated unless-"

"Are you wired?" I let their reactions speak for them. They are.

"No. Now, Miss Heworth-"

"Get out." I move to the door and open it. I know what this is about now. This has nothing to do with the arms dealer; this is an attempt by an inimical colleague to discredit me and have me removed from the CIA.

The agents don't move. "I said get out."

"Not until you answer our questions." The kid has guts, I'll give him that.

"And my answer to every single one is 'no comment.' If you're going to detain me, detain me. I don't think you have approval to do so. Either take me into custody and face the wrath of Collins or get the hell out and face the wrath of Michelson. Just notice who outranks who, it should make your decision easier."

Powel and Jessup exchange a look. They've been defeated. Orbanski looks a bit confused. They move through the door.

"And tell Michelson his ass is mine if he tries something like this again," I call after them as I close the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Initiating 

One time in Rome, I stumbled into an old enemy at a bar. I was in no mood for a fight, but it didn't look like I was going to have much choice. I avoided him by joining a table of acquaintances and staying until the bar was mostly empty. But eventually we were all shooed out and I couldn't avoid him any longer. My remaining companions were very drunk and I let them wander off on their own instead of trying to use them as a buffer. Better just to get it over with. Marcus, being the vengeful soul he was, had refused to let me out of his sight and now stood in the doorway of the bar with me, glaring malevolently. I refused to meet his eye, not out of shame but because I couldn't really muster any anger or defiance. The only thing I had at that moment, emotionally speaking, was a great weariness. I was tried of fighting, tired of pretending I cared, tired of everyone I knew being angry with me, and above all tired with the cycle of violence and vengeance.

But Marcus wasn't. He stood there, waiting for me to say something or make a move or otherwise start things. I'm not sure why, I guess he was a subscriber to the theory that whoever struck first was more vulnerable.

"Poliksena," he said at last. That was the name he knew me by.

"Go home, Marcus," I replied wearily, knowing he wouldn't but trying to make a point that I didn't want to fight him.

"You killed Allis." I think he said that for his own benefit more than as an accusation.

I sighed. "No I didn't. I just fought him. That Moor kid killed him." I looked at him, finally, to quell his objections. "But I was responsible for his death."

"You let that-"

"Marcus, please. If you want to fight me, too, fight me. You already killed that Moor. Don't bait me, don't sit here justifying killing me, either attack me or go home. I don't have the patience for your agonizing and circular logic. If it makes you feel better, yes, I was responsible for his death. Just get it _over_ with already."

I leaned against the doorframe, emphasizing my exhaustion. I wasn't physically tired, but I was close enough to depression that all I wanted to do was lay down and go to sleep somewhere. Marcus considered me, obviously still struggling with himself. I knew what would happen. He would eventually remember my reputation for being manipulative and deceptive and would decide to attack. There was very little I could do in the face of my reputation. And I _was_ manipulating him, but I wasn't trying to deceive him.

Sure enough, he deliberated for a while, on the cusp of backing off, but then he began to get angry again. I groaned inwardly as I hear him draw his sword. I ducked just in time and tried to kick the back of his knees. It sort of worked, but he didn't go down. I darted out of the doorway into the narrow alley. He took a few more swings at me, which I avoided easily.

"Draw!" he shouted, angry that I wasn't fighting back. I was mildly surprised. Surely he knew I didn't carry a sword.

I let him attack me a few more times before hitting him again, this time right above his hipbone. He gave a short cry, and I take a few steps back to watch him limping slightly. He turned back to me, giving me a murderous look.

"Marcus, I can keep this up all night. Just go home."

He attacked me again, with such renewed force that you would have thought I was baiting him. This time he gave me enough of an opening that I hooked a leg behind his and shoved his shoulder hard. He hit the ground hard and I quickly stepped on his sword wrist. To his credit, he didn't let go, but I didn't need to break his fingers to get it out of his hand. Holding his sword at his throat, I stood over him again, keeping my foot on his wrist.

"This is your last warning. Go home."

His fear turned to anger and he kicked out at me, trying to make me drop his sword, or maybe just knock me down. Deciding that keeping him on the ground wasn't worth the effort, I retreated, still holding his sword. He stood up warily, drawing a knife. I wasn't impressed; his knife looked like it's primary purpose was whittling. Still limping slightly, he circled me again. I waited for him to attack, more to give him another chance to retreat that because defense was a more tenable position.

That time he was more careful and I actually had to move quickly to get away from his blade. But he left himself open, and I hit him with the broadside of his sword. Finally I took the initiative and pressed him hard with my own attacks. I was careful to always strike him with the flat of the sword, and before he really knew what was happening his knife was out of his hand and in the air. I snatched it, then hefted it to test its balance. He went pale then, obviously out of weapons. That would have been a better time to let him retreat, but I had given him his last chance already.

I attacked him again and again, mostly with the flat of his sword than the knife, which I really just used as a threat. I had many, many more chances to kill him but didn't. After about forty-five minutes of him trying to defend himself and get his weapons back, he started to get tired. Finally I had him more or less in a corner. Panting, he spat at me.

"Go on. Kill me like you did my mentor!"

I rolled my eyes. "I didn't kill him. Nor am I going to kill you. I'm taking your sword, though. You're smarter than Allis was, you should be able to find another one before anybody else comes along to kill you. Now listen to me. If we meet again and you attack me, when I leave you next time, you'll wish you were dead. Goodnight, Marcus."

I started to back away and at first he looked like he was giving in. Then he leapt at me again. Trying not to show my annoyance, I hit him with the flat of his sword again, this time nearly knocking the wind out of him. He crumpled to the ground and tried to get up again. I kicked him in the ribs, but not hard enough to break anything, I really only wanted him on his back.

"Look, I'm not going to kill you. So knock it off." Satisfied that he wasn't going to be able to get up for a minute or two, I turned and left quickly.

The following morning I pawned his sword and distributed the money among the street urchins on my way out of town. I thought ruefully as I did that I was likely to see Marcus again some day.

I'm still working the phone in an attempt to find Pao and Ben when something happens that _never_ happens. My cell phone rings. I'm not quick to panic, but when I do, my flight and fight responses are really dramatic. Before really realizing it, I'm out of my chair and backed against the wall, staring at my phone. As my rational mind comes back, I think of caller ID. I approach my phone again and look, but as I suspected it's blocked. My caller ID isn't really very advanced, as I don't take calls on my cell. Or much at all. Thinking quickly, I grab my phone and head for the back door. I'm not an explosives expert, but it's probably better if I'm not where I'm supposed to be when I answer it. Hiking up the hill behind the house and into the bare trees, I find a good vantage point, scan the ridge and neighborhood and answer the phone.

"Hello?" I say, businesslike.

"I hear you pulled rank on Powel pretty effectively today." It's Michelson. I breathe again, but don't let my guard down. I have to resist the temptation to curse rather profusely at him.

"I noticed you got that Orbanski kid involved. Does that mean you lied to him or has he decided to join your camp?"

"He's a smart kid. You're not; you're not supposed to use names in unsecured communications."

I roll my eyes. "That's during ops. Is this what you called me for?"

"How do you know this isn't an op?" He's bluffing, but I can't figure out what he wants. It's not to gloat, he doesn't sound pleased enough with himself. Is this really his plan B for if those three agents failed? Maybe he's trying to distract me? Possible, but unlikely. When he's trying to distract someone, he usually has more of a point to his conversation.

"What do you _want_, Bob? Surely your little stunt today was a waste of government resources. As is this phone call, but who's counting."

"I think the government is more interested in how you spend your time than I do mine. _I_ take leaves of absence for vacation. You seem to spend them working for someone else."

"When you're my superior it'll be your business. Go back to work. If Collins had a problem with me I doubt he would put _you_ in charge of the op. Now stop wasting my time." I hang up.

Stalking back down to the house, I think about the last time Michelson caused trouble. I had been working with an underground organization on India, trying to keep a certain candidate from being elected Prime Minister. Somehow, the CIA got involved, and I had to explain my involvement afterwards to multiple high ranking agents and a very unimpressed committee. They decided my actions were in keeping with their interests since my information on the candidate proved good, but Michelson found out about it after I started working with him. He thought no one but the USA should interfere with foreign elections, and despite explicit instructions from our superiors to stay out of my business, he has campaigned to have me rotated to a desk job and on one previous occasion, to have me arrested.

On that rather infamous occasion, he found out that I had informants within a Green Peace splinter group. He thought I was feeding them information on Interpol so they cold stay ahead of pursuit. What I was supposed to get out of that arrangement was unclear. I officially denied all the claims; even though I made it pretty clear off the record that I _did_ have agents within the splinter group, but that information only went one way. To be honest, even if the allegations had been true, they still weren't serious enough for the CIA to cut me loose. I have been _very_ valuable to them in the past, and continue to be so when I work for them, and that is partly because I have so many other connections and affiliations. I have never worked against their interests, not because I'm loyal, but because I have never had reason to do so. If I do work against them, I won't be working with them at the same time. That's not my style.

Michelson can play power politics all he wants in the office; I'm not wasting time on a pissing contest with him right now. If the CIA becomes my enemy, so be it. It's doubtful that's going to happen today.

I don't know what makes me think of it, but I decide I need an ally in looking for Pao. Someone who can hold the fort nearer the border while I go looking for Pao in the Catskills. I know I only really have one choice in that department. There are very few individuals I trust that can just drop what they're doing and work with me full time, and even fewer that have the required skills. And only one on the East Coast. Luckily for me he's based in NYC.

I pick up the secure landline again and before I can think better of it, I give Frank Taylor a call.

"Taylor and Co. Investigations," a young, female voice answers.

"I thought this was Frank's private line," I say, surprised.

"It used to be. How can I help you?"

I don't really want to go through his secretary. "I need to speak with Frank immediately. Tell him it's his spooky sidekick." I try to speak quietly in case there's a bug in the kitchen.

This gives the girl pause. "Mr. Taylor isn't in at the moment, but I could take a message for you." I smell bullshit.

"Yes he is. Buzz him, he'll want to speak to me." I hate speaking to secretaries.

"One moment please," she says, a bit flustered.

I hold. At least there's no background music. Finally there's a click and I'm speaking with Frank.

"Well well well, if it isn't the mysterious-"

"_Don't_ say my name, Frank."

"Oh, fine. You haven't changed a bit. What can I do you for?"

"How busy are you?"

He gives a surprised laugh. "Never too busy to help a lady."

"Good. I'll pick you up in Albany-Rensselaer. Get on the first train you can."

"Jesus! Here I was thinking you were asking about next week!" He knows I'm in a permanent hurry.

"Ha ha. I'll reimburse your for the ticket. If you can catch the 1:30 train we'll get there around the same time."

"How long should I pack for?"

"A few weeks. And _don't_ use your cell phone."

"Pfft. Anything else I should bring? Kevlar vest? Automatic weapons?"

"Don't make me regret including you."

"What, a guy can't make a joke?"

"Oh, there is something you can bring. Bug sweeper. Whatever kind is your favorite."

"Ah, how I missed working with you."

"Shut up. See you soon."

He laughs as I hang up.

I crouched on the wall overlooking the square. I glanced around, noting the placement of the archers and the foot soldiers. Nothing too complicated, but there were several plain-clothes soldiers hanging around the market. Their cloaks gave them away; it was too hot a day for long robes. I guessed they had planned on it being colder, but summer was persisting longer than the regional norm. There was at least one more professional thug in the whorehouse doorway. He was giving hand signals to someone I couldn't see across the way. My escape route was pretty secure, but there were a few dangerous bits where all it would take was some bad luck. Well, nothing ventured nothing gained.

The wind was coming pretty steadily from my right. Not too difficult to compensate for, but my downfall could be if it changed much. This was a pretty long shot to be making.

The merchant had just left the main palace. He was in a well-guarded carriage, but their sniper precautions were woefully inadequate. My shot stayed clear.

This particular merchant was well known for his security, which was the only reason I agreed to this job. Infiltrating the square had been much more difficult than finding a good position to shoot from. Escape would be difficult, as well. But I had spent the better part of a week in this city planning this out, so at least I had no gaps in my geography. But for the moment I had to put thoughts of my escape route out of my head. The merchant's carriage was coming around the corner into view.

He really should have been using a palanquin or something. If he kept the curtains drawn I wouldn't have been able to snipe him like this. I would have found another way to kill him, of course, but still. I carefully raised my bow and strung an arrow, trying not to catch a guard's eye with a quick movement. Right before I took my shot, I felt a pang of disappointment. I wanted a boastful warrior, someone who could give me a really good one on one fight. Someone who could, despite all my balance and skill, get his sword point an inch from my neck before I killed him. The closest I could get to that these days was fighting an army. And even that had gotten boring; I had gotten too good.

I loosed my arrow and watched it slam through the merchant's Adam's apple. With an anticlimactic feeling, I jumped from the wall and darted off into the outer city, hearing arrows thunk against the rock of the wall roughly where I had just been. I cursed myself for being distracted; I had been hoping to sever the merchant's jugular instead of his windpipe. Ah well, best not to report success until I confirmed him dead. But for now I had to run for it.

Frank looks happy to see me. I have to admit it's good to see him again. He doesn't look that bad, considering it's been about two decades since I saw him last. When I first met him, he had just moved from NYPD to the CIA. He had been the new hotshot, one of the brass's favorites and a real asset. It had been my rather unfortunate job to partner him first. Ex-cops have a bad habit of thinking like cops, even after training. To him, it wasn't what you knew; it was what you could prove. To me, and the CIA at large, it's not what you know, it's what they know you know, and what you know they know, and what you know they know you know, ad infinitum. Not exactly Frank's cup of tea.

Now, after however many years as a spook, he's a PI, and one of the best. Why the CIA ever let him go I'm not sure, or how he'd managed to get their hooks out of him. Maybe he hasn't. I've worked with him twice before since he's left the CIA, and his style hasn't changed much, although he's more experienced. He still takes matters I consider important a little too lightly, such as the danger of cell phone conversations being "overheard."

He gives me a firm handshake as I approach him in the station.

"You look like you've gained weight," he says to annoy me. I'm frequently mistaken as being anorexic.

"Yeah, and you look twenty years younger. Come on, you get to drive my car." We head towards the parking lot.

"Oh ho! Finally yielding to chivalry?"

"No, I'm heading back down state. My train leaves in half an hour. Come on, let's find somewhere safe to talk."

"What, it's not safe here?" Mainly he's just trying to needle me, but I might as well fill him in a little first.

"Two days ago I had four tails pinned to my ass. I'm taking no chances."

He snorts. "Your ass don't have room for four tails. They here now?"

"Not that I can tell. But Michelson is making trouble again."

"That prick! He didn't get promoted, did he?"

"No, I made sure of that. But we're both under the same guy, so I have to deal with him more than I'd like. If any spooks bother you at the house, have them call this number." I hand him a piece of paper with the number I'd given the police officer on it. Even though I haven't told him what I want him to do yet he takes this in his stride. "I told the company that you're allowed to be there."

"Uh huh. So, oh expert one, where's safe to talk?"

"In here." I indicate the bathrooms.

Looking skeptical but amused, he lets me shove him into the men's bathroom, where I unabashedly stare down the remaining two occupants until they leave, then lock the door. Trying not to laugh, Frank checks the stalls for me. I check the windows to make sure there's no easy way to listen in on us. Satisfied, I turn to him.

"Pao's missing. I think I've located her, and I think she's headed for Canada. On foot." I ignore his laughter. "I'm going to look for her. I need you to go back to my newest base of ops and keep everything coordinated. Ben is in Ontario somewhere, I've got a team looking for him. I've also got one tailing Pao, supposedly. Basically I'm concerned she's going to pick up some form of transportation while I'm hunting for her in the Catskills. If I loose her, we're probably going to have to wait until she gets to Ben before to find her. There's just too many ways she can cross the border."

I hand him an envelope with, among other things, a password for the satellite database, a list of numbers for people I've got working on locating Pao and Ben, keys to the house, complete instructions on how to secure the phone, and a descent description of my various tails and encounters in the last few days. I've also got an earpiece and microphone for both of us, which I've debated about and decided necessary. Basically they don't use any particular frequency but oscillate up and down frequencies at random as well as being encrypted. Not fool proof, but it's better than me being out of contact the whole time.

"Harchet in Atlanta will be doing most of the satellite tracking, but it's mostly a computer analysis program now that we've found her. Any questions?"

He grins mischievously at me. "Pao, you mean your daughter? You mean the one you left the agency for?"

"Yes, wiseass. Any _real_ questions?" I don't really mind him baiting me. It's a routine we've developed and it keeps us both entertained and on good terms.

He pretends to consider it. I tap my foot.

"Can't think of a thing."

I smile, for real this time. "Good. I'll show you to the car. Oh, and, um, be careful when you pick up the phone at first. I was concerned Michelson would send someone to tap it or something while the house was empty. I laid a little trap. I'm sure you'll spot it if you pay attention. Oh, and sweep the kitchen for me, would you?"

"Hey, I thought I was supposed to be your partner, not your maid!"

"Yeah, well, I'm an entomophobe." That one takes him a minute to puzzle out.

"I'm rubbing off on you already," he says with a satisfied grin.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Regrets

To catch up with me, Marcus had to be really inventive. At first I thought that I was being paranoid; I was convinced someone was following me, but I couldn't figure out how they would manage it. Horses and I usually don't spend much time together, but I had decided that if I wanted to beat the winter snows I needed a mount to get across the Alps. Marcus did me one better. He pulled a Pony Express out of the hat.

I hadn't even left the Roman roads when I heard hooves behind me. A sudden flash of memory took over my mind; a memory of another occasion where I hadn't been expecting pursuit and had been overtaken by an enemy. Cursing, I tried to shake myself out of the memory, but it kept intruding. Instead of Marcus on the Roman roads, I saw Mixtli on the Aztec. It didn't take me long before I was completely confused as to where and when I was. Mixtli had been a political enemy; we had never crossed anything but words. Marcus was a mortal enemy, but still I kept seeing them interposed. Nearly crying in frustration, I hoped letting the memory take its course would help get it over with faster. In Tenochtitlan, I had been on foot and spoken with Mixtli on the ground. This time, I stayed resolutely in the saddle. Sure enough, that was enough for the memory to fade. Sometimes small differences weren't enough.

"Go _away_, Marcus!" I called to him as he approached. He was wielding a spear, and obviously intended to fight on horseback first. I watched carefully as he approached, letting go of my horse's reins so when I came off I wouldn't hurt her. Marcus looked tired but furious. There was a wild, animal gleam in his eye that made me glad he wasn't a better fighter. Turning slightly in the saddle to get a better angle, my universe contracted to the spear point. Time seemed to slow down, and I waited until just the right moment before twisting my torso out of its way and grabbing the shaft. A quick twist and Marcus was flying through the air and my universe expanded again. I was pulled from my horse, as well, but landed more or less on my feet, holding Marcus' spear in my now splintered hands.

Marcus leapt up with a yell of fury, drawing a sword and rushing me. Using the spear like a staff, I deflected his sword and hit him square on the back all in one movement. The spear shaft broke, not being intended for such force. I discarded both parts, which was usually a silly thing to do, but Marcus wasn't really a threat. Not that I was underestimating him, but no matter how many weapons he had, I could best him with none.

He pulled himself back up from the ground and charged again, looking wilder than before. I rolled my eyes. He wasn't really trying to fight; he was just trying to berserk me or something. Trying to get me to kill him, I suppose. Impatient, I didn't even bother dodging for a while before striking him. This time, I made an "L" shape with my thumb and index finger and hit him hard in the neck, which combined with his momentum was almost enough to collapse his windpipe. Coughing and choking, he staggered for a moment before falling to a knee. Again, to his credit, he didn't drop his sword. But he did when I kicked it from his hand. I assumed he had more weapons hidden in his clothing, but I took a risk and approached him while he was still struggling for breath. I knew I had told him that if he came after me like this, I'd make him wish he were dead. But my heart got the better of me and I offered him one last chance.

"Marcus. Go home. Mourn for Allis. Live your life."

I probably shouldn't have used Allis' name. With a strangled scream, he took a swing at me, not even bothering to reach for another weapon. I barely had to step back to avoid it. With a sigh, I kicked him in the ribs and then the side of the head, knocking him out. Wrestling with suicidal thoughts, I went to retrieve the horses. Marcus' horse was sweaty and tired, but otherwise fine. In one of my packs I had a pretty descent rope. I cut a few lengths off and tied Marcus' wrists and ankles together. Searching his clothes, I found two nasty looking daggers and a poisoned dart. Also a sickle-like handheld blade with a leather handle that I assumed was meant to be hidden in the hand when striking people. Mildly impressed, I put all these in my saddlebag except for the sickle. It was excellent craftsmanship and, although not new, well cared for and unusually sharp. In short a fabulous assassin's tool. Despite having sworn off that particular profession, I still had a healthy respect for superior blades.

Using the rest of the rope, I tied Marcus' wrists to his horse, making sure the rope was long enough that the horse's hind hooves wouldn't hit him. I found a leather lead in Marcus' saddlebag to attach to his horse's bridle. Mounting my horse, I started back on the road, ignoring the splinters in my hands and leading Marcus' horse and dragging him behind. I hated doing this, but causing weeks of pain was better than killing someone, and hopefully by the end of it he really would leave and never return.

Frank is enjoying my high-tech toys. As I leave civilization behind, he's tempting fate to give him a speeding ticket. I really ought to insist on radio silence unless it's important, I'm enjoying Frank's monologue too much.

"Where did you _get_ this car, Aiar?"

"It's just a car, Frank. What do you drive, anyway, a bug?"

"It's not just any sedan that can go 220!"

I roll my eyes. "You're not going 220, Frank."

"How do you know?"

"Just don't miss your exit. I'd really like some visual confirmation that I'm in the right area."

"Aren't you supposed to rendezvous with Pao's tails?"

"Yeah, but it's been hours since I got their last GPS coordinates. And reception for my PDA here isn't consistent."

"Weren't they supposed to relay through me?"

"Well, I told them to, but I haven't gotten confirmation yet. I know it's only been a few hours, but I don't like it. It doesn't feel right. I don't really think Pao would kill them, but something may have happened. I hope I'm the only one this close on her trail." I try not to let too much concern slip out in my voice, but between my concern for Pao and an intrusive memory I loose some control. Trying not to curse, I grit my teeth as the wash of memory inundates most of my senses. Once again I get one moment interposed on another and have to really work to remember which is the present.

"Aiar! What happened?" Frank's voice seems to come from far away and very close, all at once. I realize I'm cursing aloud in Urdu.

"Sorry," I manage to squeak out to Frank. "It's nothing."

"Nothing! What the fuck kind of nothing makes you sound so pissed off?"

But I'm still drowning in the memory. I bite my tongue, literally, and the short pain and taste of blood makes the memory recede.

"Sorry, Frank. PTSD."

"Something bad happen that time in India?" I guess he must recognize Urdu when he hears it. I didn't really think languages were much in his repertoire.

"No, not as such. I don't really understand why, but even trivial memories sometimes intrude."

"What does the shrink say?"

Now that's a question I didn't expect. I pause, unusually slow to come up with a lie, and since it's probably obvious I'd be lying anyway, I just tell the truth. "I stopped going."

"Aiar."

"I know, I know, you don't need to tell me. It's just… hard. His security clearance isn't high enough for me to tell the truth most of the time. I don't think he can help me if I don't tell the truth. Well, that's probably not fair, but still."

"Can't you request someone with a high enough clearance?"

"There aren't any." I sigh. "We shouldn't be talking about this. Are you almost there?"

"Yeah. You sure found a swanky neighborhood to set up shot in."

I laugh and try to return my attention to the land and pick up my pace. The sooner I catch up the better.

Ari held me close, kissing the back of my neck. I stared into the smoldering fire in front of me, luxuriating in Ari's stomach against my back, his arms around my body, his thighs against mine, and his breath on my shoulders. We were still too cold, but neither of us wanted to get up to rejuvenate the fire. Better to just stay close. When Ari started showing signs of wanting to have sex, I felt my heart swell with love and affection and my body heat with the sudden fire of desire so that I felt suddenly as if it were spring and not winter.

I tried to turn to face him, but he held me tight, and I let him have me that way. I arched my neck back so I could kiss his lips, and under our meager blanket, I felt safer and more alive than I ever did in my mother's arms or dancing at night. A moment or an eternity later, we laid still, trying to keep the heat we had created from escaping. What death and my father and slavery had stolen from me, Ari had returned to me twice over. I knew one day I would loose him, too, but until then, I stole every moment with him from death and time that I could.

I thought he had fallen asleep, but then he stirred and looked at me. I smiled and looked back. He kissed my nose and I lowered my head and closed my eyes, concentrating on how his body felt close to mine. He turned back to pick up something behind him. I didn't really think anything of it. Then heat and pain lanced through my stomach.

I gasped and choked on my scream. I looked down at my belly, and there was his knife, plunged in all the way to the hilt. And Ari's hand on the hilt. Unable to breathe, I looked up for Ari, trying to mouth "help." The word died on my lips. The face I saw was nothing like Ari's. He had a triumphant and gloating look in his eye. He smiled malevolently at me.

Completely uncomprehending, I managed to choke out, "But… I love you."

He laughed. But it wasn't his laugh; it was a horrible, cackling laugh.

"Silly little girl," he said, but his voice wasn't his, either. My sight started to fade, and I started to cough again. All the warmth of my body seemed to be slipping out through my stomach. Then another lancing pain came as Ari yanked the knife out. I tried to scream, but I had no breath. Pain shot through every part of my body, robbing me of all my senses but feeling. I had to get into Ari's arms again. That would make everything all right. I would be safe there. I tried to say his name again, but my lips barely moved. I heard his voice, but couldn't make out what it said. It was harsh and mocking. I tried to move towards him, but my body wasn't listening to me. My sight was completely gone, and a deathly chill had penetrated even the pocket of warmth around my heart. The last thing I felt was the overwhelming desire to cry, but all that happened was my last breath escaped me.

"Chod!"

"Calm down, we can still track her."

"I knew it! I knew I shouldn't have come here!"

"Hey, it's alright, we can get on the road in an hour. There's a-"

"Chod chod chod!"

"Ookay, umm, I think you should calm down."

"Is that Arabic?"

"_Don't tell me to calm down!_"

"Mike, come on, let it alone."

"I'm just trying to help."

"Yeah, well, it's not our fault."

"Chod!"

"Yes, we heard you the first time."

"Transport's this way. Come on, if we make good time we won't loose too much ground."

I stalk along after the four people I assigned to be Pao's tail. I knew it, I just knew it. Why why _why_ didn't I listen to my instincts! I knew this would happen and I came anyway. I kick a fallen branch as we pass and curse some more. I'm making my companions uneasy, but I don't care.

I need to tell Frank. I fish my microphone out of my sleeve. "Frank?"

"Yeah?" I've been in this profession long enough that I should know better than to use informal speech in communications during an op, but to be honest I've never found that code words and names hide much from listeners, and Frank never saw their point at all.

"She's on NY-28 somewhere between Pine Hill and Highmount. Either she had arranged to be picked up or she's hitchhiking."

"What's your guess, I-88?"

"I don't know. I think she's just trying to loose us."

"Does that mean she knows you're after her or she doesn't?"

"I told you, I have no way of contacting her, the last number I had was for China. She probably doesn't know it's me organizing this particular search. I don't suppose the Watcher information turned up anything new?"

"No, they're still looking for her in the city."

"Well. _Chod_. Umm, anything on Ben?"

"Not a peep. They think they're getting closer, though."

"Well, see if you can find and track what car she got into."

"You know your satellite coverage isn't quite that good, right?"

"Yeah, but you may get lucky, you never know."

"Alright. Hey, there's someone here."

My heart clenches briefly. After a pause I ask, "Can I listen in?" He doesn't answer, but turns the microphone back on. I won't be able to hear well, but I should be able to hear most of Frank's conversation anyway.

"Well hello there, sir, what can I do for you?" I hear Frank ask as he opens the door.

"You're new," a deep, male voice says. A chill runs up my spine. Oh _fuck_.

"Oh, no, actually I'm used. But the salesman's gone home for the night, so unless you want to peek under the hood you'll have to wait till he gets back." Oh, Frank, be careful.

Tiresias gives a short, humorless laugh. "Do you know who you work for?"

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing." Don't listen to him, Frank!

"She is dangerous. You are playing with fire."

"Never met a lady who wasn't dangerous."

Tiresias pauses. I can practically hear the gears turning in his head. "Do you know who hunts her?"

"Other than you?" Bless Frank and his flippant answers. If I hadn't sworn off men I'd kiss him.

A satisfied noise from Tiresias betrays Frank's bravado. "Why do you think her daughter's in danger?" I nearly choke. Did the Watchers sell me out after all?

Frank decides to stop playing dumb. "And what do you know about that?" Not much else he can do, but it's playing into Tiresias' hands.

I can hear the satisfaction in Ray's voice. "I know Aiar is being hunted, as is her daughter. Her daughter is an innocent in this, even if she is a Watcher. But she is deceived. As are you."

Frank's not buying it, thank god. "And you're here because…?"

"Because I would protect the daughter from the sins of the mother." Yeah right, and I'm a spring chick.

"Uh huh." Frank's putting on a good show of suspicion, but I can hear the curiosity behind it, and so can Tiresias.

"Whatever you know about Aiar is what she wants you to know. She hides behind many masks. You may not do well to help her." Is he playing up his accent? Surely he's more fluent in English than he's letting on. What's he doing, cultivating an air of mystery? Possible I guess. Frank finds that sort of thing more amusing than impressive, but if he only subconsciously notices it… Please see the mask, Frank.

"We all wear masks. I got a great William Shatner one Halloween." Despite the severity of the situation, I almost crack a smile at the image of Frank in a Captain Kirk mask. Tiresias doesn't think it's so funny, though.

"She has killed, you know. In self-defense, yes, but also out of malice, greed, ennui. Ask her. Find the truth in her eyes. Vengeance comes for her, and she owes it her life."

"What, she killed your mom or something?"

"No. Goodnight, friend cowboy." I hear the door close behind him.

Frank is quiet for a minute, and I hold my breath. Please, Frank, please.

"Aiar?" he finally says, and lets go of the microphone at last so I can speak back.

"I'm here. Look, Frank, that was Tiresias. Did I ever tell you anything about him?" I know I mentioned him once to Frank, but I don't know if Frank remembers.

"I don't think so."

"Well, it's no good me telling you now. Be careful of him. He preys on doubt and uncertainty. He's well practiced at it. And if he means well towards Pao I'm a dolphin. You did well, Frank."

He pauses again. "Aiar, was any of that… is there some truth in what he says?"

I swallow the lump in my throat. "There's some truth to it. Look, Frank, we should talk about that in person. I'm not avoiding, I just can't say all that I want right now."

"Yeah, sure, Aiar." He covers his doubt well, but not well enough.

"Please, just help me find Pao for right now." I hate loosing friends like this.

"Right. I'll get on it," he says, more businesslike.

Curse you, Tiresias, to the seventh generation, and the seventy-seventh.

Marcus woke up as I finished cleaning the rabbit I had caught for dinner. The fire was going strong and I had already collected all the water I'd need. Marcus groaned and blinked blearily. It took him a minute to realize he was still tied up. He was bloody and bruised, and one of his eyes was almost swelled shut. One of his ankles was broken and several of his ribs. His collarbone was bruised badly, but not broken.

"You're not healing so quickly anymore," I said to him, getting the rabbit started over the fire.

He spat a string of curses at me, then said, "You're a fool not to kill me!"

I sighed. "A fool to keep an oath? I hope not."

"Oath!" He spat. "Your kind takes no oaths to heart!"

Raising my eyebrows, I looked him in the eye. "My kind? What kind is that? A woman? An ancient? A tribal?" A bitter part of my mind wanted to ask just what he thought he knew about me, but the rest of me was too mentally exhausted to feel sufficient bitterness.

"Assassin!" he spat at me.

Well, he had me there. I looked back to the rabbit, not out of shame but depression. "I'm not an assassin anymore, Marcus. I haven't been since before you were born."

He laughed, thinking he had touched a nerve. "I hear the stories about you! The people you killed, the deceptions you raveled. You don't just walk away from that kind of life!"

Considering the meat in the fire, I said dispassionately, "No, you don't."

Undaunted, Marcus pressed it further. "Once an assassin always an assassin!"

I shake my head, staring past the meat and letting my eyes loose focus. "Nothing's that simple." I don't expect him to believe me.

He struggled against his bonds. "You have no honor! No pride!"

I glanced up at him, more interested in his injuries than his words. The cuts above his eye had healed almost completely, his bruises had lightened, and although I was pretty sure his ankle was still broken, judging by his bruising his ribs had healed.

"Be still. I'd like to eat before we start again."

He spat at me again. I had to admire his drive; he was doubtless pretty dehydrated. "Coward!"

"Coward, am I?" I said quietly. "Is that what you call a warrior who kills a petulant child? I stay my hand not out of fear, but out of pity and a desire not to strike without need. But you won't believe me. My words are wasted on you."

I turned the strips of meat over. I knew the smell of it must have been excruciatingly tantalizing. But he wasn't ready to accept kindness from me yet. Once the meat was done and I had eaten, Marcus was looking much healthier. Time to keep my word.

Sitting in a beat-up pickup truck with the agents I'd set to tail Pao, I curse myself some more for not listening to my instincts. I knew this would happen. Pao's too good; I trained her myself. All I can think of now is getting back to Frank and redoubling the effort to find Ben. But the agents I'm with still think they can relocate Pao. I know better, but I might as well let them try for a few hours. It's bad for morale to take hunters of a trail when they can still smell the scent.

Frank's been pretty quiet. He's mulling over what Tiresias said, no doubt. All he's said to me over the last few hours has pertained to GPS locations and relaying my orders. I hate loosing friends like this. Even if he stays loyal, I'm pretty sure he doesn't trust me anymore. I don't really know how to regain that trust. We've been through a lot together, especially in the Agency. But that sort of thing only goes so far. I'm a deft hand at manipulation, myself. I could probably twist the truth, say things in the right way, display the right emotions in the right amounts, drop seemingly innocuous information in conversations he'll only remember later, just like Tiresias did and does. But I don't want to. Manipulating friends is a breach of friendship, and I like having a friend. I don't have very many, mainly for their own protection.

Tiresias… why did he choose now to reenter my life? He's never been an enemy, exactly, but we're far from friends. A sudden though occurs to me; who was Tiresias' teacher? I picture the Watcher report in my head. His past had a lot of question marks in it. No teacher was listed; his earliest known contact with other immortals had been a standard fight. So someone had probably at least explained the rules to him. The Watchers' information is notorious for having gaping holes in strange places. What about Rji? The Watchers have no official information on her. She trades favors with them for their blind eye, as I do. She wasn't listed on Tiresias' report, but that doesn't mean much. Suspicion begins to gnaw at me. Tiresias could have motives entirely independent to come after me now, when I'm vulnerable, but there could be a link. Di immortales, I hope there's not.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Beginning

A fly was staring at me. I stared back. Vaguely, I had the feeling I was waking up. But I wasn't breathing. I tried to remember why that was a bad thing. Breathing meant pain, didn't it? Suddenly, my heart contracted horribly and my diaphragm clenched. With a ghost swirl of pain in my veins, my pulse was hammering through me again, and I had drawn in the most painful breath I could ever remember.

Of its own volition, my hand grasped my stomach where the knife had been. All it found was smooth skin. My reasoning caught up with my senses, and I looked down at myself. My stomach was covered with dried blood. My blood. So was the ground underneath me. But there was no cut, no wound. No knife. No Ari. _Ari_.

I had to find him. He had to know I was all right. I had to tell him it was okay, that I loved him. It would be okay; no one else knew I was dead. Had been dead. Was I still dead? I was breathing. My heart was pounding. My legs moved. I touched my thigh with my fingertips. I felt solid, warm - human. I wasn't a spirit, was I? Did spirits know they were spirits? I wasn't a ghost that took over a dead body, right? If that happened I wasn't supposed to be able to remember my life. I hoped so, anyway.

My tunic was still by the remains of the fire where I had taken it off. How long had I been asleep? The coals underneath the ashes still glowed. It had only been one night. It was mid-morning. Where would Ari be? Coming back to the main camp for lunch, probably. I was supposed to be with the women. Well, I might get a few smacks for being late, but they wouldn't really mind. But I had to find Ari first. Well, I decided I ought to wash the blood off first and then find Ari.

Heading back to camp, I started looking for him. No one was around, but that was to be expected. We had spent last night pretty far from anyone else specifically to avoid people. A fleeting thought made me worry that I hadn't gauged the time correctly, and that the whole tribe would have moved on. But no, there was our camp, exactly as I'd left it yesterday. A few people were milling around. When one of the children saw me, he screamed in terror and ran back towards the campfires to find his mother.

That was odd. I had checked my reflection in the creek when I washed; I had had some blood around my mouth, but otherwise I looked like myself as far as I could tell. No sign of death. With rising fear, I continued through camp until one of the adults saw me and started. She stared and stared as if I were a foreigner. Embarrassed, I didn't come any closer to her.

"Umm, have you seen Ari?" I asked hopefully, trying to hide my embarrassment.

She jumped as though scalded and backed away. Was I a spirit after all? One of the young men, approaching, saw me and gave a cry, then turned tail and ran back down the path that the hunters use. He was going to get my father.

Turning to the woman next to me, I said, "Please, where's Ari? I need to find him."

She shook her head and backed away towards the trail where the young man had gone. No help there. I made a split decision and raced towards the trail. Maybe I could find Ari before the kid found my patriarch.

I had barely started down the path when I caught sight of the young man and the primary hunters. The kid was speaking faster than a brook and gesturing back towards camp. Ari was nowhere to be seen. Unfortunately, I was, and it was my father that spotted me. If I was in trouble, I had best get it over with sooner rather than later. So I took a deep breath and walked down the path to face them. As I approached, I saw uncertainty and fear lurking behind my father's stern countenance. That was a sight I had never seen in waking life, and it was this more than anything that told me something was wrong.

"It can't be!" I stopped. That was Ari's voice! But it had come from among the primary hunters; my father's favorites. He strode between two of the others, coming closer to have a look at me. Apparently he had been there, I just hadn't been able to see him behind the others. Pointing at me, he turned to my father and said, "You saw her body! She was _dead_! You _saw_!"

My father silenced him with a wave of his hand. "Yes, I saw. This is not Aiar."

I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. "What!" I said, despite myself. They thought there was some sort of evil spirit in my body. "Ari! Ari, please, you know it's me!" I stepped towards him and the whole lot of them recoiled, fear on all their faces. Ari looked both enraged and petrified. I felt like my heart was breaking and the whole world tumbling in on me. Denial was only going to carry me so far. "Please, Ari, I love you. It'll be alright, please." I think I was trying to convince myself.

I advanced towards Ari again, pleading. He was so terrified that he picked up a stone and threw it at me. It was small, and it only cut me, but it broke through what remained of my denial and hurt more than the knife. My father was saying something, but I didn't hear. The first of my intrusive memories began then, and I relived Ari stabbing me. Killing me. Panic took over, and I ran away. How long I ran for I really couldn't say. When I finally stopped, I collapsed on the ground and cried for what seemed like days. I realized only later that what frightened the others most about my appearance was that the cut Ari's stone had given me healed itself practically before their very eyes.

My PDA beeps, alerting me that I've received Tiresias' latest Watcher file. I really want to know what he's up to. Plus, I want to see if he's been interacting with anyone I _know_ is affiliated with Rji. If I can establish that link, I don't need to know anything else. He becomes public enemy number two in my book, followed shortly by whatever common affiliations he has with Rji. I can't help but hope that nothing turns up. If Rji and Tiresias are working together… Suffice it to say it doesn't bode well for me, Pao, Ben, or even Frank.

We're almost to base, but I decide to have a cursory look. Two names jump out at me - Katie Patricks and Li Bu. Patricks is a student of a student of Rji's, which is suspect but not necessarily incriminating. Rji is like me in that she likes her privacy, so Patricks could be a message runner who doesn't actually know Rji. Li Bu was a contemporary of Rji's back in the day. But I thought they had a falling out and swore eternal vengeance? Oh well, things change. Not exactly conclusive, it could indicate Tiresias could actually be working against Rji, but could just as easily be in bed with her.

I decide to read the report more fully when we get inside. I've taken the agents tailing Pao back to the house upstate. There's nothing else for them to do, I might as well let them sleep and shower etc before sending them back to their other lives. Frank is waiting up, still working the phones. He should probably get some R&R, too, before we have that talk.

Frank seems to think it's a party, though. The four spies were in a sober mood after loosing Pao, but they're getting to go back to whatever they were doing before I called on them, and they get to spend their last night away in a corporate party house and diminish its stores of alcohol, so between that thought and Frank's cheery attitude they brighten right up.

Much more subdued, I follow them into the house and immediately settle in at the computer to continue the slog. The spies are bickering good-naturedly about who gets to shower first, and Frank is breaking out the expensive imported beer. Checking over what Frank's been up to, I see the quality of work I've come to expect from him. Good, but I still can't help but feel that if I'd been doing the work, I would have gotten better results. Returning to my PDA, I read over Tiresias' file more carefully. The encounter with Li Bu was a fight, but neither killed the other. The encounters with Patricks were of a more friendly nature, but seemed to involve a third named Porthos. No one I know. Could be a pseudonym. The phone line is still secured, so I call up someone in Crete to relay another Watcher request for me, this time for Li Bu, Katie Patricks, and Porthos. As soon as I hang up the phone, I curse myself for requesting all three together. I should have made three separate calls so no one makes the connection. I really ought to get some sleep.

Instead, I get up and make coffee, a substance I do try to limit but always seem to abuse anyway. While it's brewing, I get back on the phone to give some advice to the people trying to locate Ben. A little annoyed at Frank, I have to bite my tongue a few times to keep the ire out of my voice. It's not really Frank's fault. He's done a good job, just not a great job. I'm really only annoyed at myself for leaving my post and at Tiresias for getting to Frank.

Frank comes back in, bringing the coffee.

"This place stocks some _good_ imports."

"Yeah, it's for office parties."

"You burning the midnight oil?" He gestures with his chin at the phone.

I take a cup of coffee and raise it in a mock toast. "But of course. You should get some sleep, Frank. Oh, and, uh, don't get drunk, alright?"

I guess he hears some of the coolness in my voice. "Come on now, Aiar, just-"

"We should talk about it tomorrow. When you're not so tired." He may try to deny it, but I can see the circles under his eyes.

"What's wrong with you? You shouldn't take what that guy said so seriously."

I give him a wry smile. "I thought that's what I was supposed to say to you."

To my surprise he doesn't smile back. "Seriously, Aiar, what's wrong."

I pause and look down at my coffee. "I don't like loosing friends. Especially not this way."

He sounds a bit defensive and irritated. "You haven't lost me."

"Yeah, yet." I look him in the eye again. "What could I possibly say to you to restore your trust in me? I have no tangible way of proving to you that I've changed. If I were you, I wouldn't believe me. I'd be suspicious of me. I am dangerous, there's no getting around that." I let out a frustrated grunt. "But we shouldn't talk about this now. Have some fun with those kids before they leave. Get some sleep. We're probably heading to Canada tomorrow."

Disappointed but amenable, Frank gets up and leaves me to the phones. As he's about to shut the study door behind him, he turns and says, "Oh, I almost forgot. Apparently Michelson's riding a desk job, which is why he's had the time to come after you. And why he's not in Afghanistan or Iraq or wherever your unit is these days."

I grin. "I'll have to see if I can catch him misusing his resources. Another misstep and I just might get the bastard demoted. How'd you find out, anyway?"

He gives me a mock offended look. "I have my pet spooks, too, you know."

Normally I would roll my eyes and make a sarcastic comment, but I'm too demoralized. I give him a thankful grin as he leaves and return to the computer.

I was nervous about returning to the mainstream. But some big things were going down in the walled city, and I had to do something with my time.

All I had to go on to start with was a few rumors about the rulers of the city and third hand reports of suspicious deaths. Even though my instincts weren't as refined then, I still had a good sense of where to find out more and who the major players were. It took me less than a week to make contact with the underground, which at that time wasn't being hunted by the major powers yet. They weren't exactly freedom fighters, but they were decidedly preferable to the ruling aristocracy. Their stranglehold on the city had gotten worse in recent generations, to the point where they were destroying the trade and markets that were their source of wealth. People have an impeccable knack of working against their own best interests in the name of an idea or power or whatever, and they were no exception. The aristocracy was atrophying, but I was hoping to save the city from dying the slow death that lay in store for them if things continued as they were.

The resistance needed help, a lot of it. At first, they were highly suspicious of me, but I finally got a meeting with the leaders; two young sons of merchants who thought the world belonged to them and not the aristocracy. One of them remained forever suspicious of me, mainly because I was a known hired sword in some parts of the world, and rumors had preceded me. The other recognized an asset when he saw one and immediately took me up on my offer to help. First they tried to persuade me to kill a few key aristocrats, but I flat out refused and offered an alternative.

So it came to be that I was standing on the inner wall one fine spring morning with the less suspicious leader, who had been named child's light, and a peasant who knew every secret passage and every crack in every wall in the city whose real name I never caught, but went by little spider.

"The caravan will be coming in the inner gate in about ten minutes," little spider said.

"Just so we're clear," I said to both of them, "no one gets killed."

Little spider gave me a skeptical look. "A lot can happen in the heat of battle that we can't prepare for."

"This isn't battle," I said, thinking rather ruefully that of all people a thief should know that. "This is a lightning strike. We're gone before they realize what's happened."

"Little spider has a point," child's light said. "We must be prepared for this to go wrong."

I shook my head. "These people are not our enemies. We hurt them, we give our enemies another ally. That's much worse than this shipment getting through."

"They'll be our enemies anyway. We're stealing their shipment," little spider said.

"No, they knew they took this risk doing business despite the embargo. The loss of a shipment and the loss of family members are two different things. We've had this discussion. No one dies this day."

Child's light nodded, but little spider looked doubtful. Not liking his resistance, I turned to him. "Your assistance has been invaluable. Your aid in this endeavor is not necessary."

He looked shocked and affronted. "You requested my assistance."

"Yes, for your ability to get us here quickly and safely. I think you should stay out of the melee. You will still be given the shipment to sell or distribute, or whatever you wish to do with it."

He gave me a baleful look. He always resented taking orders or "suggestions" from a woman. Glancing at child's light, but finding no support, he looked back at me. "And leave a little girl and a wine seller to take on trained guards?"

I was about to retort when child's light laughed out loud. "A wine seller and a girl child?" Worried about being heard, I tried to hush him, but he waved me off. "Small insects can hardly compare! Come now, little spider, let her run the show. Your skills are incomparable and we won't be forgetting that any time soon."

Little spider grinned lopsidedly and conceded. "I'll meet you at the archway, then."

Watching him go, I couldn't help but admire child's light's diplomacy skills. "That was well done," I told him.

Child's light smiled and dismissed my praise with a gesture. "I've known him a long time."

I spotted the shipment coming up the road from the outer city. "Here they come."

Our lightning strike struck true, but after that the underground was being hunted.

Frank let the agents out in the morning, wishing them a safe journey. My nerves are fried from a long night of caffeine and unsuccessful wrangling. For a while, we seemed to be closing in on Ben's location. I now know that Ben was in Ontario as recently as two nights ago. The problem is, no one has been able to figure out where in Ontario. There's been no activity on his credit cards or checking account accept for his wife's. No one can find any properties that they can link to Ben. I don't have enough time to send someone checking around all the hotels in Ontario. For the last hour, I've been inspecting Ben's financial records, hoping to find _something_ to lead me to him. But like Pao, except for a substantial cash withdrawal before he left home, I've got nothing.

Frank comes in, obviously still tired, but in a good mood. "You should get some sleep. You've been at this too long."

I sigh, and lock the computer. "We need to talk." I hope I don't sound like too many of his girlfriends.

He raises his eyebrows. "Nothing good ever followed those words."

"Sit down, Frank," I say, trying not to sound as tired as I feel.

He pulls up a chair. "I'm listening."

All night, I tried to figure out how best to explain all this. In the end, I gave up and decided it'd be best to be as candid as possible. "How much do you know about my past, Frank?"

Frank shrugs. "Only what I need to know. You're pretty good at dodging questions."

"I know. There's a reason for that. The more you know, the more danger you're in. Now I'm stuck between keeping you safe and keeping your trust. But now I think I ought to tell you something that I – I've only told the shrink." I hear his intake of breath. I keep my eyes resolutely on my coffee and plow ahead. "Remember when I told you I didn't, well, like guys, and you bugged me about why not? Well, I didn't exactly lie, but I didn't exactly tell you the truth, either." I take a steadying breath, trying to shut out the intrusive memories. It doesn't work, so I try talking over them. "When- when I was young, before I died the- the first time, I was in love with someone. A boy. He- I thought he loved me, but he was- was- playing me. Not just playing, completely and utterly deceiving me, for nearly a year. Eventually, I- well he- he stabbed me. K-killed me." My voice is shaking beyond control. The intrusions are getting worse. I clamp a hand over my eyes, hoping but not really expecting to block them. After all this time, I still can't accept that it was what really happened. "It- it screwed me up for a r-really long time." Diverting my thoughts to later times and places, the intrusive memories finally faded. I let my hands, which I now realize are trembling, fall from my face. "I did a lot of self destructive things. I hurt and killed a lot of people. But there are few left to remember it. I took a vow, long ago, not to kill another mortal, and not to permanently kill another like myself."

I glance at him, finally. He stares at me, thoughtful, sympathetic, but speculative as well. Feeling unmasked and off balance, I curse myself for revealing so much. I should know better. As despair tugs at me, I see their faces again, and curse aloud this time.

"That's why you wouldn't carry a piece," he finally says.

I'm still dealing with a barrage of unwanted memories, but I manage to nod. It's eerie how recent all these memories seem, as if only a week or two has passed. I wonder if he thinks all this is an act. I wouldn't blame him for wondering, but this is why I hate showing anyone, even trusted friends, my true feelings. The curse of a professional liar. Worse, he's seen me pull off some spectacular lies, bluffs, and acts. He knows, better than probably anybody alive, what I'm capable of. Another problem I can't circumvent. Feeling utterly defeated, tears press at my eyelids and I don't bother to fight them.

Suddenly, I feel Frank's hand on my shoulder and nearly jump out of my seat. Heightened startle acting up again. I really need to regain some self-control. But I guess the whole point of loosing it in the first place was so Frank could see the real me. I don't know if it worked, but he looks genuinely sympathetic, even a little concerned for me.

"We'll find your kid, Aiar," he says.

I shake my head. "That's not what I'm crying about. Well, it sort of is, but…" I don't know how to explain. I've been fighting depression for a long time.

"What do you mean?"

In for a penny, in for a pound. I have to whisper so my voice doesn't shake. "I see their faces. I remember them all. I can't- I can't forget. Part of me wants to, but part of me wants to keep their memory alive so they don't die twice. I owe them that much at least." I have to stop to control my breathing. I pull my legs up to my chest, hug my knees, and lay my forehead on the desk. I hate days like this.

"Aiar, you've _got_ to stop doing this to yourself."

I try to laugh and sob instead. "Not until I've paid for it."

"Paid for it? You look to me like you've paid plenty. When is it enough?"

I feel my heart lift at his words. Maybe I haven't lost a friend, after all. But I frown and look away. "A life for a life. My children are my redemption."

Frank goggles at me. "_That's_ why you adopted Pao! Karmic balancing or something?"

"Something like that."

"Isn't that, like, transference or something? Surely you see how screwed up that is!"

I shake my head, aware that normally I'd be more offended. "It's bought me peace of mind. Sometimes, anyway. Someday, it'll be enough. Someday."

"So… if she dies, you loose that bit of redemption?"

"No. _When_ Pao dies, I will mourn her. I gave her what I could. A childhood and the best start to life I could manage. I'm just protecting her from my past."

Frank shakes his head. "You really need to go back to that shrink. Have you told him any of this?"

"Well, I told him about being stabbed by my lover. He doesn't have the necessary clearance to know much else. I have to be careful to be unspecific about the timeline. You're not even supposed to know, you know." I grin at him wryly, feeling much better talking about something other than the past.

He gives me a lopsided grin. "Why are you entrusting me with all this, anyway?"

I shrug. "Lots of reasons. You found out I don't die easily when you weren't supposed to, and you handled that really well. I dunno, Frank. You've always proven yourself trustworthy and capable. It's nice to have someone to trust. I don't have many friends, in case you haven't noticed."

He nods, but something else is on his mind. "So, where does that guy, Tiresias fit in to all this?"

I shrug. "I'm not entirely sure. Ray's never been an enemy of mine per se, but he enjoys… collecting other people's close friends. He's done this to me before. It's his way of provoking a fight, I guess. I'm good at modulating my voice and hearing the tells in other people's voices, but it's from long practice. He has a natural ear. And he's a natural manipulator. I don't know if he's taking advantage of my situation or if he's actually involved. I think it's more complicated than either, but-" Something's not right.

Frank looks puzzled at my sudden alertness. "What?"

"Shh!"

Someone's outside.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Redefinition

Someone knocked on my little room's window. Time to move. I leapt up, grabbed my few belongings, and crossed to the other window and scurried out of the room. I had a nice view of the outer walls from here and the hills beyond, but I hadn't been able to appreciate it until now. The sun had almost set; hopefully I could let child's light know my place had been raided. I was getting sick of moving around the city, but that was the price for avoiding capture. Deciding to double back across the fruit sellers' market, I considered the likelihood that I was being followed. I wasn't exactly difficult to pick out. I had always thought of myself as tall. Compared to most of my tribe I was. But in the walled city, I had begun to realize that people were getting taller. Add to my small stature my darker skin and conspicuous tattoos and I wasn't a hard face to pick out of the crowd, no matter how good I got at blending in. I had even invested in a cloak with a hood, but that got just as many suspicious looks.

Sure enough, a street kid climbed the wall at exactly the same place I did, and started looking around as inconspicuously as possible. I had hidden myself behind another building to have a look. Briefly, as I took off down the back alleys to avoid sight, I wondered if the kid was supposed to tail me or kill me. This was a pretty rough city for the poor, especially these days. It was too easy for the commoners to get caught in the middle of the turf war.

Testing twice more for tails, I finally was satisfied I was clean and made my way to child's light's most recent hidey hole. He was probably with the other ringleaders, laying out the plan for tomorrow's big heist. His window was hidden from every direction but above, so I decided to wait outside until the meeting was over. They didn't like me being there, and besides. Never miss an opportunity to eavesdrop.

Someone named starlight was fighting with the second of the two underground leaders, a grumpy man with a name meaning sandy.

"…Like I said before, they're _not_ going to back down to financial pressure! We need to make an example or two."

"But if we use violence, the rest will only be more frightened and less likely to give in! They already have a lot to loose, if we add their lives to that, it makes them that much more difficult to crack."

"I wouldn't mind spilling some of their blood. The crowds in the square would love it. We could simply kidnap them and hand them over to the square."

"What, _all_ of them? They may not outnumber us, but they have families – kids and wives, not to mention servants and guards. How do you propose such a kidnapping?"

"No, no, I mean the ones that are left. We send assassins after them all and keep a few for the square." There was a general murmur of assent that chilled me.

"That's a little bloodthirsty!"

"Not after what they did to black rock! Are you forgetting him already?"

"No! But we got revenge, didn't we? His killer is dead."

"His killer was one of their guardsmen! He was just a blade, the real killers haven't been punished yet!"

Child's light broke in. "We're getting ahead of ourselves a little, here. We still have to wait on the mercenaries. If we take back control of the outer circle, at least in part, it won't be long before we can start doing business again. We could help the rest move out of the inner circle. We could completely circumvent them, and then we could just wait them out. They don't have enough stored to stay locked away in there forever."

This had been my argument when raiding their shipments didn't work. I was actually surprised that child's light would present my argument as his own. Not because he was taking credit for my idea, but because he had been so skeptical of it when I'd argued for it.

The murmurs following his suggestion were no less disapproving than I had expected. One man called many horses voiced his disapproval first. "They will never stay uninvolved, and we will become a visible target for them. They don't deserve that kind of breathing room."

"They will never stop until they are dead!" another man shouted.

He was quickly hushed for fear of being overheard and not because anyone disapproved. The meeting was soon adjourned for safety reasons. I was not too pleased by what they had been talking about, but I was far from surprised. Blood would spill, that much seemed certain. I had been working on certain aristocrats for nearly a month by that time in an attempt to reach some sort of truce, but I had long since ceased to hope for any results. By that time, all I hoped for was that my contact with the aristocrats went unnoticed and unsuspected by child's light and the others.

I waited out my annoyance outside the window until the sunlight had completely drained from the sky then knocked on the window. Child's light let me in. I told him about my place being raided.

"Well, you can stay here tonight. I'm moving day after tomorrow, anyway. Dawn will find you somewhere else in the morning."

I nodded. "How did the meeting go?"

"Eh, well. The usual sniping. If we pull off this next attack, there's going to be problems about what we do next. But, one step at a time. Everything's a go for tomorrow and everyone's on board." He didn't sound particularly encouraged.

"Something wrong? Are you having second thoughts?"

"No. No. Not about tomorrow. Just about who we've included in all this. I thought having more allies could only be a good thing. Now… well, like I said. One step at a time."

I nodded. I didn't blame him for not confiding in me. To do so would have been premature. But I decided to move up my agenda with the aristocrats.

I slide out of my chair into a crouching position and move towards the rear window. Frank takes the hint and gets down, too, pulling his gun. I make it to the wall by the window just as Frank kills the lights. It doesn't do too much good, as it's after dawn. Two figures, both armed. I sign as much to Frank. They're both in ski masks, moving along the low brick wall next to the pool. I sign for Frank to cover the front door. I consider killing the lights, but as it's morning already there's not much point. I duck under the window and make my way to the back door. Frank and I can still at least partially see each other. While I wait, I try to figure out who they're with.

They're definitely not Feds, or spooks. Something was familiar about the way they moved, though. Tiresias? Rji? I don't really think so… My mind races, but before I have time to place them, the back door lock begins to turn.

The first thing that comes through the door as it opens is the silencer of a gun. Then the gun, then the gloved hands holding it. Taking this as my cue, I strike out with my left foot, knocking the gun out of the gloves and before it hits the ground I strike out with my left hand and grab one of the wrists. Before the owner of the wrist begins fighting me, I yank her through the door and spin her around so I can grab her. She starts to struggle and the second figure leaps through the door and swings his gun around on me, even though he lands a little off balance. But I've got his partner and he doesn't have a shot.

"Drop it," I hiss, holding his partner's throat threateningly. She stops struggling, and he lowers his gun, but not reluctantly. As if he's amazed.

"Mom?"

I drop Pao, and stare dumbfounded at Ben. I have never in my life felt more relieved.

"_Ben!_"

He pulls off his ski mask, grinning and dazed. Pao whips around and nearly knocks what little breath I have out of me as she gives me a bear hug.

"Thank _god_!" she says, not bothering to take her mask off.

"What are you doing here?" Ben asks.

I hug Pao back and grin at Ben, still trying to get my bearings. "I should be asking you that, you know."

"Gonna introduce me?" Frank enters the kitchen, grinning and obviously trying not to alarm either of my kids.

Pao stiffens but doesn't break the embrace. Ben just looks confused. I grin, feeling more relief than I can stand. "This is Frank," I say, indicating with my chin. "Frank, that's Ben and this is Pao under all that clothing." Pao takes her mask off, appraising Frank with a not-too-friendly glance. Frank, however, is unperturbed.

"Pleased to meet you at last," Frank says with a friendly smile and extends his hand. Pao shakes his hand, still wary, but Ben is friendly enough. It's such a shock to see Ben. I haven't seen him in years. Decades. He looks the same as ever, but… elderly. Pao looks more serious, but just the same as ever. She has an air of command about her that she had to have learned from me. It's only been a few years since I've seen her last. I realize I must look as surprised as Ben.

"What are you _doing_ here?" I ask as I hug Pao again.

Pao smiles stiffly. "We traced an immortal here. Someone you might know, actually. Tiresias. We thought he was here and was hunting you."

I laugh. "Well, he was here, but this is my house. Indirectly, anyway. He showed up yesterday when I wasn't here to pester Frank. What were you planning on doing? He's no one to be trifled with."

Ben, who isn't really paying attention, comes to give me a hug now. "It's so good to see you again, mom," he says, misty eyed.

I hug him back. I almost forgot how tall he was. Pao ignores Ben. "I know that. I was trying to protect you, mom."

I stare at her, not sure if I should be amused or terrified. "_Protect_ me? I can protect myself, you know. You've put yourselves in a really bad position."

Pao gives me a crooked grin, which I recognize to mean she knows something I don't. "We didn't put ourselves in any position. I'm not stupid enough to initiate anything. Ben's not either, you ought to know _that_. I got a rather interesting package in the mail a while back. Someone had been watching an individual named Tiresias without Watcher approval, and apparently lost their life for it. But not before this someone sent a journal to me."

"Let me guess. Rji."

Pao looks surprised. "Yes. But how did you know?"

I shake my head, disappointed but not surprised by Pao's lack of faith in me. "I have good instincts. I knew someone was searching for me for… months. I learned it was Rji only a week after that. I've been playing cat and mouse with her for a while. To be honest, I knew she was looking for you. But I'd been covering your tracks as best I can, with the help of the Watchers of course. Until one day you just up and left your charge and ended up in Kentucky of all places."

Pao only looks slightly admonished. I see no sign of the deaths of two bystanders in her face. "I was scared for you. Rji means business."

I have to struggle not to show all of my exasperation. "I _know_, Pao. I wouldn't be going to all this trouble of playing games with her and protecting you if she didn't. I know she's not you're run-of-the-mill immortal, and I know she's not hunting me alone. I also know that if she gets her hands on you or Ben, she won't let you die slowly." I shake my head again, trying to derail myself. "It doesn't matter now, I guess. She knows about you now, but we've found each other." My smile betrays my relief again, and I bask in the glow of the light in my children's eyes.

Marcus was loosing his fire. I had kept him hungry and in pain for nearly a week, and he was finally wearing down. I was questioning whether or not all this was necessary, as I always did when torturing someone so they would stay away from me. But in the end, I still thought that a few weeks of suffering were as nothing compared to death. And I refused to break my oath, so my choices were pretty much fight him off every time he came after me and hope neither of us got lucky or give him a good reason not to come after me anymore. I had been through this song and dance with at least three others like him, so I had some experience in the effectiveness of this method and the danger of the other.

I was nearing the pass in the Alps, which meant I had to return to the main road. Not that it was that busy, but there was always the chance of coming across another traveler. And that was something I didn't want to have happen while I was dragging Marcus around with me. But I could keep out of sight of the road for a few more days, so I had at least that long to work on Marcus before turning him loose. I thought it might be a good idea to drop him off a cliff after making him swear not to come after me again. I'd have to find a cliff that was high enough to "kill" him but not so high that he wouldn't get up again. That would buy me a few hours at least, maybe a few days. Even if I managed to make him swear to stay away from me, I didn't really expect him to stick to it. But if I had enough of a head start I could make it to the pass and loose him in the mountains. After that, well, time would tell I suppose. If he were determined enough he'd find me eventually.

At the moment, he was trying his damnedest to keep up with the horse so he wouldn't be dragged. It was near the end of the day and I could tell he was really struggling to stay on his feet. I weighed the pros and cons of continuing just so he'd be dragged for a while, but decided against it. Pulling the horses to a halt, I dismounted just as Marcus hit the ground, breathing heavily. Before he could recover, I bound his ankles again and drew a knife.

"No," he managed weakly when he saw it.

"Give me a reason," I said hollowly.

"No," he said, even more weakly. He was close to tears. Pity stabbed at my heart. With a herculean effort, I cut him along the bottom of his foot, which was still a bit cut up from walking.

"Give me a reason," I repeated, trying not to vomit.

He started to cry in earnest. Taking a steadying breath, I started in on him again, trying to dissociate. It didn't work. An hour and a lot of blood later, Marcus was out and I was trying to build a fire. I had to take several breaks to fight waves of nausea.

I assumed, rather hopefully, that Marcus would be out for the night and tried to ignore his presence. That didn't work, either. Giving up on both sleep and my failed fire, I burst into tears, sobbing and letting myself think all kinds of black thoughts that I had previously had enough self-control to keep from thinking. How long I cried for, I wasn't sure. When I finally managed to stop, I heard Marcus stir.

"Who do you think you're fooling?" he growled.

Surprised and scared, I turned around to answer him, but found I couldn't. Bursting into tears again, I ran. I didn't want him to see me so upset. I never let any enemy, nor any stranger, see what I was really feeling. In those days, that meant no one. Of course, I had never let myself get so out of control before, or so depressed. Leaving an enemy, even one tied to a tree, alone like that was, well, uncharacteristic to put it mildly. On top of that, I paid absolutely no attention to where I was going or where I was in relation to my camp. In short, I was making myself extremely vulnerable.

I ended up slumped in a hollow between a tree and a boulder. Time passed, but I wasn't aware of it until the sun came up. Composing myself as best I could, which wasn't very much, I forced myself up and started following my own trail back to camp. Remembering the days after leaving the walled city, I had more intrusive memories to contend with. Luckily, finding my way back to camp was unusually easy. I had not tried to hide my trail at all.

When I arrived, Marcus was struggling to get free of his bonds. He hadn't gotten very far. Seeing me, he stopped and gave me a searching look. I suddenly felt naked, and winced as though struck. Making a split second decision, I snatched up the knife I had used last night, which I had left uncleaned by my attempt at a fire. Marcus winced as I approached, but all I did was cut the ropes. I stood back up and let the knife fall from my hands. Holding it just seemed like too much effort. A moment after that, standing was too much effort and I sat on the ground, hard.

Marcus stood, rubbing his wrists and looking at me suspiciously. As though testing me, he bent down stiffly and picks up the knife. "This is a test," he said uncertainly, almost as if asking me a question. I couldn't even bring myself to answer. Or grunt.

He hefted the knife, obviously debating whether or not to strike me. After a moment, he raised his hand for the blow, and a fleeting elation stole through me. Free at last. Instead, he kicked me square in the jaw. Lights exploded behind my eyes, and for a moment I thought I was going to pass out. Instead, I tasted dirt in my mouth and felt my arm being twisted behind my back. Marcus put his knee between my shoulder blades and pulled my head up by my hair. I felt the knife pressed against my throat.

The four of us left the company house in a hurry. Now we're on our way to Pennsylvania where I'm hoping to catch a flight to San Francisco. I'm beginning to formulate a plan, but I need more help to pull it off. Hopefully I'll get the Watcher information on Lucia before we actually get on a plane. I'm running out of people in the Watcher organization to make inquiries for me. I haven't abused their information repository this much since… ever.

Frank and Ben are getting along swimmingly. Pao keeps talking to me in Mandarin so she doesn't have to let Frank into the conversation. Frank's driving at the moment, since he's the only one with a decent night's sleep, but we're going to have to switch vehicles soon. We've got a tail again, and I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who's noticed yet. If Pao weren't paying so much attention to being annoyed at Frank she'd probably catch on, but that doesn't look like it'll happen any time soon. I'll have to watch those two. I like Frank, but he's too old to be dating my daughter. Period. It doesn't help that, in addition to being a Watcher, my little girl has grown up to be a looker. Trying not to smirk at my own pun, I can't help thinking to myself that it would be hilarious if on top of all that, Pao was a Seer, too.

Pao catches my amusement, however and gives me a questioning look. I shake my head and indicate the rearview mirror. "We've got company," I tell her.

To her credit, she doesn't turn around in her seat to look. She stares for a long time at the mirror, until she asks me, "Tiresias?"

I don't think so. "I think it might be the Watchers, actually. We've picked up a lot of attention, and I may have abused their tolerance by making too many inquiries. Our agreement doesn't specify anything about me using their information, just that they keep no information on me. To be honest, I think I've done very well by them. They get a lot out of it. But you never know. They don't take well to meddling, do they? We'll find out when we get to the airport."

"Do you really think Lucia will help? You barely know her."

"I didn't know her for long, but she's a good woman. She has a sense of honor, which is miraculously not overdeveloped. She'll understand. She's had her share of mortal lovers, if not children. I know her well enough. I just hope she hasn't changed much. She's not young or old enough to have changed much, to be honest."

"What was his name before? Lusaih?"

"Liùsaidh. It comes into English as Lucia, though."

Pao shakes her head. "It's not like you to talk about trusting immortals."

I make a noise in my throat and give her a mischievous glance. "It's _also_ not like me to have raised someone who's joined up with the _Watchers!_ Please, just tell me they approached you and not the other way around."

Pao laughs, but I can see defensiveness behind her eyes. "You seem to have found them awfully useful, despite your sermonizing on the corruption they represent."

I smile, but in a kind manner. "Pao, I'm proud of you. I may tease you about it, but I think you've done very well with your life. Just because we haven't seen each other… I know you think it's overprotective, but I really am trying to do what is best for you, even now."

Pao looks surprised and touched. It takes her a minute before she speaks again. "Mom, do you miss Katie?"

Well that came out of left field. I let my surprise show before I answer. "Not a day goes by." I can't believe I'm having this conversation after all these years. Maybe this is the first time it's been safe for her to ask me. I pause, trying to decide if I should ask my question. "How often do you think of her?"

She looks away, but answers. "Every time I think of you." She struggles with her embarrassment for a moment then meets my eye again. "You should talk to her, Mom."

My daughter is full of surprises today! "Have _you_ been talking to her?"

Pao doesn't look away. "Not recently. When I was in college we wrote letters. You should talk to her."

"Did you tell-"

"_I_ didn't tell her anything. I just told her about school and my friends and all that. I'm just saying. You should talk to her."

I hate when my past comes back to bite me. People from my past are one thing, but I made a bad decision back then, letting Katie into Pao's life. At least nothing worse has come of it than some heartache on Pao's and my parts. "I'm sorry all that happened. I should have known better, you were so young."

"Don't be sorry. I wouldn't change a minute of it."

She puts her hand on mine and is still probably about to advise me to talk to Katie again when something occurs to me.

"Pao, you found your biological parents in China, didn't you."

The quality of her silence tells me she was waiting for a better moment to tell me this. "Yes. Actually, I did."

"And?"

"It was… hard. They don't really want me back in their lives. But I think they were relieved to know how well my life turned out, considering. I'm not sure it was the best decision I ever made, though. Going to find them. But not a mistake."

I survey her, thinking how strong and stubborn and how delicate and precious my daughter grew up to be. It's amazing how much her pain still goes to my heart. "Thank you for being my daughter," I say before I chicken out. Am I saying goodbye?

Pao doesn't think so. She smiles at me appreciatively, but I don't think it makes her feel much better about her real family.

She's still searching for words when Frank cuts in.

"What are you two gabbing about? Come on, let us in on the big secret!"

Switching back to English, I indicate the rearview mirror again and mimic Tiresias' accent. "We've got company, friend cowboy."

Frank's in a stellar mood and laughs out loud. "Eh well, let's show them what this puppy can do!" And I watch with mounting dismay as Frank decides to loose our tail with a heart-stopping performance of just how stupid Americans can be.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Hoping

All the things I hate about civilization existed long before civilization was born. Including overcrowding. Around the time agriculture started becoming popular in the Nile basin, a religious movement started to gain a following. I tried ignoring it until there was a drought and they made plans to fertilize the fields with the blood of the shaman. So I wasn't in the best of moods as I made my way south avoiding all signs of human presence.

When I became aware of another immortal ahead of me, I nearly turned and ran. But I restrained myself, somehow, and went forward to meet whoever else was wandering this far from humanity. Turned out to be a teenage boy. He looked about fifteen, at any rate; he was probably at least two decades older than that. He approached me cautiously but openly. He was still young; there was a lot I could perceive from him that he didn't intention. He was confident and had reason to be so. He was handsome, and a bit of a heartbreaker, but was genuine in his affections. I didn't need to be able to read him to see the joy he gained from life – that was written all over his face and in his eyes.

He greeted me in a language I could understand, but only just. He said something to the effect of wanting to know what I was doing out here, or maybe it could have been where I came from, I was going to have to learn his particular dialect if I wanted accuracy. I made what I hoped was a deferent gesture and said I was simply a traveler. He seemed intrigued by my ready submission and asked my name. I gave what was really a diminutive of a word meaning woman that was the name I had been using in the area. He called himself "palm tree," but I wasn't sure if that was a name or a title or just a pseudonym. That was when I noticed that he did indeed have a weapon. There's no good translation for it as far as I know, it's more or less just a long, thin, flexible stick. The advantage of it was that it still hurt like hell and was _fast_. If you had good quality wood it was really hard to break, as well. I broke one once. Took a full three hundred sixty degrees' worth of momentum and all the strength in my left shoulder matched against the full force of my opponent's attack to do it, but I broke one. Along with my forearm, but it's an accomplishment nonetheless. They can really hurt, too. Often break the skin without much effort. But like any weapon, they limit your range and flexibility.

He noticed my glance at his stick he brandished it more openly, giving me a mischievous grin. When I showed no intention of drawing a weapon, he gave me a questioning look. I told him I was not going to kill him, but he might have misunderstood me. I cast my eyes downward, hoping submission would discourage him, but he didn't appear to be in it of the ego. I quickly learned he was in it for the fun of the fight.

When he first attacked me, I thought I had given him a false sense of security. I quickly realized he really was that good, despite being undisciplined. At first I just avoided his attacks, hoping when he couldn't land a single blow he'd get frustrated and become easier to subdue quickly. Far from loosing patience, he was intrigued by my fleetness and began to enjoy himself even more. Then he really started testing me, trying to keep me from moving anywhere too quickly and essentially back me into a corner, even though there were no corners to back me into. It had been years since anyone had pushed my limits so far, and despite myself, or maybe because of the kid's attitude, I became intrigued as well. I started fighting back, trying to get close enough to him that he couldn't use his weapon. I succeeded several times, but it was much harder than I expected and despite trying, I never did land a hit.

That was enough to get me to commit to the fight; something I hadn't done since before I had last had my limits tested. Maybe it was just the kid's infectious attitude, or that I hadn't had to really try for so long, or maybe just that it was clearly not a fight to the death anymore. Whatever triggered my unusual good humor, we soon were soon having a grand old time just trying to land a hit on each other. I had never and have never had so much fun in a fight. He really pushed my limits, and I pushed his, and not just once or twice, but continuously for nearly four hours. Without ever landing a single hit.

It was my superior endurance that would have won out in the end if I had had any intention of hurting or killing the kid. But even so, at the end of the fourth hour, there was no denying I was tired and breathing hard. If I felt that drained, the kid must have been four or five times worse. He looked it, as well. We stood out of each other's range, trying to catch our breath. The kid was really sweating and looked like he might be down for the count. He looked up at me and I swear to this day I have no idea what was so funny, but we both just started laughing. And couldn't stop for nearly half an hour. That was an experience I hadn't had in… well, since before my mother died.

When we finally got a hold of ourselves, we sat next to each other on the ground and had something resembling a conversation.

"You're pretty good for a girl," I think he said.

"You're pretty good for a baby," I said.

We giggled helplessly again, but by now our ribs hurt and it didn't last long.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked again (I think).

I shrugged, hoping to indicate both my lack of complete comprehension and the pointlessness of my wandering. "I was trying to avoid people. What are you doing out here?"

He grinned. "Playing a game." I was missing some subtle meaning in his words.

"What does that mean?"

"I'm chasing someone, and he's chasing me. It's a game."

"Is he one of us?" I tried to hide my worry.

"No, he's just a child."

Again, I missed some of the meaning in his words, but I nodded. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

He shrugged. He was a natural. I envied him. My skill had come from long experience. "You keep going the way you're going. You won't be in our way." He gave me a sly look from the corner of his eye, and I had yet another experience I hadn't had in a long time, unsolicited male attention. I sat up a little straighter, not sure if I should be alarmed or flattered. "It's nearly sunset, shall we share a campsite?"

Normally I would have refused point blank as the last thing I wanted to do was encourage him, but his wasn't the kind of company I often had opportunity to enjoy. Multiple novel experiences in a manner of hours? Not something I'd walk away from just because the kid might make a pass at me. "Sure."

After we parted ways, I made it a habit of checking up on him via gossip, which was the closest thing to intelligence I could get. He did very well for himself for some years. He might even have been able to beat me one day, but his womanizing caught up with him. Palm tree didn't even break her heart. He simply had the misfortune of falling for a woman with Hannibal Lecter tendencies. She didn't even know he wasn't just another man. She poisoned him and cut him up into little pieces. There is some truth in the saying that the brightest stars burn out the fastest. I wish I had even a portion of his enjoyment of life.

Frank, Pao, and Ben think I'm asleep. In truth I was _trying_ to sleep, but then they go and start having an interesting conversation and I can't help myself.

"But she refused point blank to use deadly force. I remember, our boss nearly bumped her to embassy bomb threats and she wouldn't budge."

"Yeah, well. There's a reason she's so adamant. She has nightmares, and talks in her sleep. This Rji has a real vendetta for her and I don't think it's because of a foiled political plot. All I know is, they're supposed to fight one on one. It's a tradition that's taken really seriously. Rji has called all her remaining students together for this. This is serious."

"What do you think mom's going to do?"

"That's the thing. I don't know. I've tried to do my homework, but the Watchers don't keep any records of her. Or Rji. And the only person I can get a hold of who'll talk about mom's behavior patterns is Frank here."

"Me?"

"You were her partner for what, ten years? What do _you_ think she'll do?"

"Well… Jeez, I dunno. I don't think she'll kill nobody, if that's what you mean."

"Come on, Frank. You two went through some real shit together. You must have a general idea how she would react to someone gunning for her."

"Well, from what I've seen her tendency is to try to hide her trail and take on a new identity. But now we're all in the mix, and to be honest I haven't seen her do anything lately but try to protect you two."

"I don't like this business about going to another immortal for help. To be honest this has me more worried than anything else."

"Aiar never talked about other… immortals much. To be honest I never really more than half believed it. She's a private girl, she is."

"Why'd she tell you, anyway?"

"Well. She, uh, she got hit by all this shrapnel. And, uh, well."

"She saved your life, didn't she."

"I thought she'd died to save me. I don't think I took it very well when she started breathing again."

"Frank. Ben. Focus, please. We really need to know what she's thinking. Think, Frank, you must have some kind of pulse on her."

"What do you want me to say? She's never let me in on her plans more than I needed for my part. It's one of the reasons we almost didn't stay partners. She doesn't like people getting to know her."

"She looks like a little girl."

"You're not holding out on us deliberately, are you, Frank?"

"Now why would I do that?"

"Because you don't trust us. Answer the question."

"Pao. Just calm down, alright? We're not going to accomplish anything this way. If Frank had any useful information I'm sure he'd either tell us or act on it himself. Mom isn't going to do anything stupid, okay? I don't understand why you're up in arms about it."

"Not do anything stupid? Ben, did you ever hear some of the stuff she says when she's having nightmares?"

"Yes… why?"

"So you must know that she has a lot of… feelings… that could be very dangerous to her."

Ben sounds confused at first, and for a very brief moment I think he's going to tell Pao that she's making things up. But then he says, "But you don't think she'd… act on them, do you?" My blood runs cold and I begin to realize that Lucia, supposing she even remembers me and agrees to help me, is going to have a harder time than I thought.

Pao sounds more cynical than I've ever heard her sound. "I wouldn't be so sure."

"Give me a reason," Marcus said, voice fully of hate and pointed irony.

"Allis," I managed to cough out. "All of them. All their faces. All the blood." I didn't mean to say anything.

Confused, Marcus jabbed me with his knee. It hurt but I welcomed the pain. "What do you mean? All who?"

I laughed pathetically, and started crying again. "A thousand deaths wouldn't be enough. My blood won't cleanse me." I was hysterical, but barely aware of it. Images were flickering in front of my eyes, almost like the memory intrusions, but too fast for me to recognize.

Marcus paused for a moment, obviously unsure of what to make of me. I collapsed into tears again, but Marcus paid no attention. Only my curse of a memory allowed me to recognize pity behind his movements as he yanked me up by arm, twisting it so hard that my upper arm broke. Enjoying the way the pain drowned out the memories, I managed to stop crying as he slammed me up against the tree.

I giggled, sounding mad. "Avenge Allis! Do it now! No one deserves death more than me! I'm glad he's dead! I'm glad they're all dead! Lucky bastards! Why! Why do they get to go and not me!"

"You're manipulating me." But he didn't sound convinced.

I shuddered, and felt the sudden compulsion to protect my stomach. I knocked his hand away and huddled over my knees, shaking hard. Suddenly I was speaking in my mother tongue instead of Latin. Repulsed and horribly confused by all the memories that suddenly tried to intrude, I groaned and bit my fist. For a long moment, all I did was rock back and forth, shaking and wishing Marcus would kill me already. When a gentle hand touched my shoulder, I started and my head snapped up to see who was there. It was Marcus.

He was struggling with himself, fury still blazed in his eyes and breath, but pity restrained him and tormented me. A swell of anger rolled through me and in a fury of self-hate I struck out at him, trying to provoke him into killing me. It sort of worked; he stabbed me in the heart with the knife.

When my heart started beating again, I was lying at the foot of the tree and Marcus was eating all my food. To my lasting surprise, the knife wasn't still in my chest, nor was I bound. For a moment I coughed and tried to sit up, but soon let myself fall back down. Aside from the physical sensations of reviving, I felt better, or maybe it was just better by comparison. The intrusive memories had stopped, which could have explained it. I stared up at the leaves and the morning sky, wondering vaguely why I felt nothing.

Marcus noticed I was up and said, "Get over here."

I felt a strange relief knowing that I wasn't going to get off as easily as a knife in the sternum. It still took a tremendous effort to get up, nevertheless. About five minutes later, I sat across the fire from him, not meeting his eye. He ignored me and continued to eat the rest of the food from my saddlebags. There wasn't much, I tended to hunt, but I was sure it was at least some relief to his hunger. Once he had rummaged through all of my stuff in a search for food, he turned his attention to me at last.

He stood over me for what seemed like an hour and was probably forty five seconds. Finally he spoke. "Promise me. Swear that you will never forget Allis."

Humor rippled up through my rib cage, but I didn't seem to have the energy to laugh. That was probably the easiest oath I could ever take, and one I would gladly break if it were at all possible. I gave myself a minute to let the irony subside before speaking. "By earth and water, air and sky I shall never forget your mentor, Allis. I am so sworn."

For some reason he was angry again. He took two quick strides to me and yanked me up. My upper arm wasn't even sore from being broken anymore.

"Look at me!"

Reluctantly, I looked up into his eyes, feeling very exposed. His grief and anger bored into me until I thought I was going to finally break.

"Why-" Another intrusive memory. Ari throwing a rock at me. Only in the present I was somehow both rock and thrower for Marcus. I told Ari I loved him. Marcus demanded why. Only there were too many whys he demanded. He couldn't say them all. He was shaking now, and I saw the grief and anger reach boiling point. He struck me with one hand and held me with the other. I could have kept my balance, but I wasn't paying enough attention and my shoulder felt it. He struck me again and let me fall. I stayed down, waiting for the next blow that never came.

I'm still not sure bringing my children and Frank with me to see Lucia is such a good idea, but it's preferable to leaving them on their own in the San Francisco apartment I've gotten access to. I have visions of the three of them getting abducted while I was out finding protection for them. Better to keep them in sight while possible.

My primary problem at the moment is that I'm already feeling guilty for what I'm going to put my children through. My secondary problem is I don't know what I'm going to say to Lucia because I don't know how much she remembers me. If she remembers me. Or if she'll even be willing to help me supposing she remembers me as vividly as I remember her. I'm taking a considerable amount of risk in all this. I also need to call Johanssen. There's also the possibility that Rji won't show up as quickly as I'm expecting her to.

Frank, who has been to many a remote and exotic location with me, is acting like a tourist as our car approaches the bay. Ben is enjoying himself in his calm way, but Pao is agitated and keeps trying to ruin everyone's fun. I try to ignore all three because I'm not entirely sure where I'm going and I have to count lights. The last time I was in San Francisco none of these streets were part of the city.

The house is a fixer-upper. It looks livable, but there's no car in the driveway so I start worrying. I park across the street and get on the phone again, this time in Chichewa. At least I'm not harassing the Watchers this time. Frank immediately starts making fun of the way the language sounds, which Ben chuckles at and Pao treats with a stony glare. I spare Frank a moment to smack him, but otherwise ignore all three. I feel kind of bad for them; at this point they're just tag-a-longs and have nothing better to do but to harass each other and me. I'm barely through with my phone call when a car rounds the corner and I know there's an immortal driving and another in the passenger's seat. Adrenaline makes my pulse jump but I get it under control as I get off the phone as quickly as possible.

Lucia, and someone younger, no one I recognize but probably her current student. Lucia notices us standing around my car but the boy doesn't, which means I'm unconsciously interfering with their perceptions of me. Not a good foot to start out on. Seeing my hand as I put my phone away, I realize I've also made my life a lot more difficult. When I met Liùsaidh, I was really roughing it. I had nearly forgotten about my tattoos and I wasn't hiding them. The tattoos on my cheeks, neck, and hands are currently expertly disguised by some rather expensive makeup. Feeling like an absolute fool with a nervous smile pasted on my face, I wait until they've parked the car outside the house before crossing the street to meet them.

Lu gets out of the car, looking wary behind her poker face. Her student just looks confused.

"Liùsaidh!" Recognition flickers in her eyes. She takes a good long look at me before speaking.

"Aiar?" My smile becomes more genuine. I thank my lucky stars I told her my real name before we parted ways.

"Yes! I'm- I'm sorry to just show up on your doorstep like this. I didn't come at a bad time, did I?" I bite my lip, trying to figure out how much affection I should show.

"No, it's not a bad time," she says, the wariness lessening but not disappearing. "This is Christian." She indicates the young man.

"Hi, this is Frank, and that's Ben and this's Pao."

"Come in. Come in."

We all follow Lucia into the house, which is definitely being worked on. I get the feeling the two of them are doing all the work themselves. She ushers us into the kitchen, offers us drinks, which everyone but me accepts. I can see Lucia is trying to remember our friendship more clearly. I hope she considers it a friendship.

"What happened to your tattoos?" she asks me amiably as she makes coffee.

I grin, still hiding just how anxious I am. "One of the wonders of the modern world. Really convincing makeup." I lick a fingertip and demonstrate on the back of a different finger, smudging the makeup so my tattoos show through. Christian's the only one who's particularly interested. Pao and Frank are still bickering and Ben's enjoying the show, while Lucia is mostly giving me speculative looks. Pao, uncomfortable with the subject of tattoos, tugs her sleeve farther down. Luckily neither Lucia nor Christian notice.

"So, uh," Christian starts, "how do you guys know each other?"

I glance at Lucia, who apparently decides to field the question. "We traveled together for a while. Back packing in the Alps, right?"

I realize she doesn't know what's a safe subject because of my company. I give her a wry smile and say, "I'm surprised you remember. It was well before this lot was born." I make sure to include Ben in the sweep of my hand. Lu takes the hint, but doesn't comment. It doesn't take long before we're on our own in the sunroom supposedly looking at the work she's been doing on it.

"So, why are you really here, Aiar?"

My stomach flips over. "I… I need help."

Concern shows in the muscles around her eyes. "What kind of help?"

She's no fool. She doesn't trust me completely. But I can't manipulate, she's my friend, and I need her support to be based in reality. Besides, I've been making lots of mistakes in the last twelve hours due to anxiety and thinking ahead too much. So I take a deep breath, try to keep my voice level, and keep my eyes on the floor. "I'm being hunted. And what's worse Ben and Pao are, too. I c-can't protect them and do what needs to be done at the same time. Frank's trying to help me, but he's not up to the task. I'm not asking you to get involved in my fight directly, I just need to know they're safe."

There's a lot more I want to say, but make myself stop. Best to save it for Q&A. Lucia considers this for a moment or so.

"Why come to me?"

I feel like crying again. "You're the most recent immortal I remember thinking of as my friend." I dare to look up again and regret it. I don't see friendship in her eyes. "I don't… you're the only one I know is alive." I'd be overdoing it if it weren't true.

"That was almost two hundred years ago!" I don't have the courage to meet her eye again. My fear hasn't run this high in a long time and it's starting to drown out my instincts and intuition. Fuck starting, it has been ever since Pao and Ben found me. I don't think I realized how scared I was for them until I saw them again. I should get some sleep. "Who's hunting you, Aiar?" Lucia asks after some amount of time.

"Do you know someone name Rji?" I look up at her now that the subject's moved to something less emotionally volatile. She shook her head. "She's from my time, roughly." I don't know if she knows that my time is several orders of magnitude farther back than she probably suspects. "One of the last as far as I know. I killed her brother. It took her long enough to take up this vendetta. I'm hoping if I can get to her before she finds Pao and Ben. I know… I know I brought this on myself. But they are _innocents_ in this, Liùsaidh."

"So… you want me to baby-sit some mortals." She sounds like she's looking for the fine print.

I have to take a steadying breath. "Not exactly."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: Renegotiation

Lien and Rji were fraternal twins, and both immortals. I never learned much about their early lives or childhood, but I did watch them for a long period of time. Lien especially was a formidable warrior, but Rji showed the most promise. But she never wished to surpass her brother, or such was my observation. The primary reason for bringing my attention to them was their fame. At the time I liked nothing better than bringing down the high and mighty, and on top of all that they were good people, giving me reason enough to dislike them. They were very intimidating to rivals not just because they were both imposing fighters, but if anyone killed one, they would have to deal with the other.

Which is why I went after Lien. I tracked them for about a week out of their usual community and waylaid them shortly after dark on a night of a full moon. In those days I wore leather wrist guards under my clothes so I could pull off some visually impressive stunts like blocking and trapping someone's weapon between my wrists, mainly for intimidation but also as an alternative to simply moving out of the way. I was also accomplished at other less subtle forms of intimidation, several of which I employed that night. My tattoos were eye-catching enough, but when traced with a knife the blood made them look gruesome, even if the cuts did heal over right away. I had also started to develop the skill of interfering with other immortals' ability to perceive me, which meant I could sneak up on them, to an extent, and then reveal myself all at once. This was something I was still practicing, but it worked well that night.

Their alarm showed me I had been successful. With a hostile grin, I approached their campfire, showing them my empty hands. If they knew who I was they wouldn't be fooled, but they seemed to relax a bit.

"Who are you?" Lien challenged.

I grinned even more maliciously and said, "A student seeking a lesson from a great master." Even though they no longer really followed the strict rules of their natal society, they were still Asian, and to them anyone from south of the Tibetan plateau was sub-human. Add to that my double X chromosome and my tattoos marking me a criminal and my intent was to insult him, and it seemed to work.

Lien had lowered his knife, but now he raised it again. "Be careful what you request."

I laughed and said with as much disdain as I could muster, "Teach me then, and let us see how long it takes for student to surpass master!"

He attacked me at the same moment I attacked him. I had a golden opportunity to knock his knife from his hand, but didn't take it. I wanted to drag this fight out a little while.

Taking on other immortals as students is a tradition most of us upkeep. I never liked letting anyone that close, especially someone who might one day be an enemy. I taught a few, but only when I was running out of challenging kills. I was hoping one day that my students would be good enough to give me a good fight. Part of me hoped they would get good enough to kill me. But, to get that level of skill, they had to go off on their own, spend at least a few decades playing the game.

So I came up with a new scheme. Instead of teaching directly, I targeted some of the most talented fighters, immortal or no, and made them hate me. Vengeance can inspire some pretty impressive improvement in someone's abilities. One such target particularly haunted me when I regenerated a conscience. I killed nearly everyone he came in contact with to break through his belief that revenge hurts the avenger more than the victim. But Rji had no such conviction to break through, and she cared about her brother more than I cared about anything, and that was a conviction easily channeled into vengeance.

The plan was to put in a truly harrowing performance in fighting Lien, then kill him while his sister watched. It worked, in that our fight was convincingly well balanced, but when it came time to kill him his sister decided to join in. I should have seen that coming, but I had been planning on killing him quickly and in reality his knife just wasn't a sufficient weapon for quick beheadings. With Rji, the plan had been to put in all my effort and emphasize her inferior abilities. When she attacked, I wasn't sure what to do. Lien was still alive and would realize the disparity in the two fights despite exhaustion. I compromised and simply evaded her every attack while going after Lien again.

I settled for "killing" Lien, hoping it would buy me enough time to humiliate and taunt Rji if I left his knife in his chest. I only spent about fifteen minutes doing so. I had expected it to take a lot more than simple lines like "you're not even worth killing" to unsettle her, but I improvised and decided it would sting more if it were over quickly. I attacked her in earnest and left her barely conscious enough to watch me take her brother's head. I laughed at her then, thoroughly enjoying myself and the success of my rather transparent psychological abuse. I left and hoped when I saw her again she'd be a worthy opponent. But I never saw her again.

Frank is not happy with me.

"They're not _children_ anymore. Pao is more than capable-"

"You're not listening to me, Frank. This is not a country or a terrorist organization or a sniper or all three that I'm worried about. This is a whole hell of a lot worse than that."

"So you're just going to ask them, and me for christ's sake, to trust a complete stranger while you run off?"

"No. Calm down. I'm asking you to trust _me_. If you don't you can be back in New York before the day is out."

"You can't get me involved in these things and then just tell me to leave! I trust you, Aiar, you know I do, but this is not on the level."

I can't tell him the truth. He'll try and stop me and I won't be able to make him understand. "_Please_, Frank. Please. Trust me. I need to know my children are not going to be used against me. Keep them safe."

"Do you _really_ think I could keep Pao from chasing after you, even if I did want to stop her?"

This isn't working. I'm supposed to be having this fight with Pao, not Frank. He and I have had problems like this before. I've never exactly pulled rank on him, but I asserted my authority, even if it was all done between the lines. If appeals for trust aren't working, simple assertion of authority isn't going to cut it. The problem is, Frank is my friend. I shouldn't need to pull this kind of act on my friends. With a warning in my voice I say, "Please, Frank, I don't want to ask again."

He sighs. "I know you don't want to involve anyone in this more than you think necessary, but if you don't let us in, there's going to be trouble."

I really, _really_ hope I'm not about to end a friendship. I draw myself up, which doesn't really improve my height, but is part of generating an aura of authority, which involves a number of subtle things, including a red glare in my eye. The rest is a matter of suggestion and posture. Frank's eyes widen and I see his fear and surprise. "I am a servant of the flame imperishable. Trouble has already come. Do _not_ hinder me."

He searches for words, but before he finds them, instincts kick in to break our tableau. I grab Frank's shirt and yank him down behind the garbage cans as I hit the dirt as well. My instincts were just barely in the nick of time; a bullet hits a tree to my right, and I see a laser guider wandering down to try and find me again. Aside from an arrest warrant or formal inquiry, this is about the last thing I want to deal with. This is either a distraction so that someone can get at my kids while I'm dealing with the sniper, or else someone has been observing my Watcher inquiries a little more closely than I would have thought possible.

I take a peak between the garbage cans to see where the sniper is. It's a man, and he's moving along the hill behind this neighborhood, possibly to get another location or possibly to just get away. I don't recognize him, but I know he's not an immortal and I suspect he's just a hired gun. From this distance I can't get anything else. "Frank! In the house, now!"

Frank doesn't even argue. We make our way at a crouch to the side of the house, then to the nearest window. I help Frank in, and then before he can even yell after me I take off in pursuit of the sniper. I think I know where the guy's headed, and it's probably to get a clear shot into the house and of my car out front. I use the other houses as cover and hightail it along the line of the hills. This is what I'm good at; acting in the moment, concentrating on what's happening around me and making decisions without an instant's pause. The problem with this frame of mind is that morality doesn't always occur to me. It's why I never carry a gun.

Flanking the sniper, I abandon the protection of the houses and start up the hill. Sure enough, he was making for a point I would have chosen; view through the windows of Lucia's house and of the driveway all the way to my car. But now he's noticed me. He's a bit encumbered by his state-of-the-art equipment, but he doesn't drop it. He does start reaching for a handgun, though. Up close I can tell he's French, and has been shopping in Austria for his jacket. Whoever sent him has a lot of money to burn.

I have to dodge a few more bullets before I can get close enough to disarm him. And even then, he's formidable at his hand-to-hand. I manage to grab his gun by the silencer and kick him in the shoulder close to the rotor cuff. He drops the gun and his equipment as he struggles for balance. I don't give him the time to regain it and sweep his feet from under him. That almost buys me enough time to pin him, but he's too quick for that and rolls away to get back on his feet. I feign a punch to his face so I can kick his hip as he moves. Now his motion is limited and I can get close enough to break his collarbone. After that, he doesn't resist. I twist the arm on the side I broke his collarbone behind his back and push him to his knees.

"Who are you?" I ask in French. I'm sure his English is fluent, he might even have a southern California accent, but I prefer using his native language.

He just grits his teeth, trying not to let on just how much pain he's in. I shove him a bit, not enough to break his arm or dislocate his shoulder, but enough to make him start biting his tongue. "Who are you?" I repeat.

"John," he says in an American accent.

"Who sent you?" I don't care what his real name is.

He starts laughing, but only manages to redouble his pain. I don't want to be away from the house for too long, so I decide to interrogate him there. Besides, this may still be a ruse to get at them. I just hope whoever sent this guy didn't have a backup plan planned for the next few hours. He stifles a scream as I lever him up by his arm. "Come on, let's go," I say, still speaking French.

I nearly curse out loud when I see Frank and Pao kicking up dust in my tracks. I just hope I didn't loose a friend as well as failing to intimidate him.

Frank tried to find his second clip, but I had already jumped ahead to how in the name of McCarthy we were going to spin this. Paris and Branson had the guards scrambling to get out of the crossfire, or would have if Frank had been paying more attention to his ammo, and I was supposed to be keeping an eye on our escape route, which I was, just not with a hundred percent of my attention. The prisoner, Molly, was doing well under the circumstances, but she realized at about the same time I did that her rescue was practically pointless from a tactical advantage perspective.

"Come on," I hissed at Frank, "reload. If we can't get out of here quietly, we might as well get out quickly."

"I'm trying!" he hissed back.

"Don't you have a gun?" Molly asked me.

"No, and keep quiet, we don't want to give our position away."

"A little late for that," she shot back bitterly. For a grad student, she had balls.

I ignored her and glanced back at the hallway leading to the office door. Getting flanked would do none of us any good. Frank finally loaded up again, which gave me some maneuverability. Once he started firing again, I darted down the hall towards the office, checking all approaches for more guards, then moved into the office, staying at a crouch just in case.

"All clear," I said to the team, "fall back!" Once we had been discovered, radio silence hadn't been necessary.

Frank shoed Molly towards me, and I ushered her into the office. Branson showed up next, looking as pissed off as I felt. He glared at me like this fiasco was my fault, which was unfair but partly true. He broke the skylight instead of opening it like he was supposed to, but there was little point in covering our tracks anymore, and he needed to vent some frustration. I gave him a leg up through the skylight then helped Molly up after him. I dragged the office desk underneath to provide a better step up while Frank and Paris shoved their way through the door, still taking shots at the guards, who luckily hadn't yet been joined by any military. I helped Paris up, then let him pull me up, and Frank brought up the rear. Once Frank was up, Branson threw something explosive, maybe a grenade, down the skylight and Paris and we ran, practically dragging Molly behind us.

Fire safety codes had never been well enforced in the old Soviet nations, but this prison had a fire escape by some miracle of civil planning. Our original plan was to go down and make our way to a downtown nightclub where we had transportation, but that took time we no longer had. Now the plan was up, and the transportation was being called in by Paris. Unfortunately, there were a lot of things that could go wrong with this backup plan, which is why I had been on this mission at all – to ensure secrecy. I had overestimated my new partner, unfortunately, as Branson was quick to remind me. That was the other problem to our backup plan; it gave us time to yell at each other.

"What the hell were you thinking! There are about five thousand other agents that could have done his job, and done it right! Why bring the FNG? We've been working this for nearly a month, and he blows it in a single night!"

"How is this _my_ fault? There were a thousand and one things that could have gone wrong, and any of us could have been the ones to screw it up just by breathing the wrong way!"

"This was _your_ call, _your_ op, _you_ chose the personnel, and _you_ should have given it just a little more thought. Jesus! This isn't some drug bust in the Bronx!" He shot Frank a particularly disdainful look. He was right of course, but now was not the time to rub my face in it. We had just reached the topmost part of the roof and needed to be alert.

"Back off. Everyone was new to the job once. Just keep an eye out for our ride."

I moved back to the top of the fire escape and glanced down. No one yet, but the night was young. Branson covered the door to the stairwell, which was the only other roof access, and Frank came over to help me cover the fire escape. Paris wanted nothing to do with our shouting match and stuck with the girl in the most sheltered part of the roof he could find.

Frank was about as irate as Branson. He crouched on the other side of the fire escape glowering, occasionally opening his mouth to say something but always closing it again. Finally I couldn't take it any more.

"You screwed up. Don't! Don't defend it, don't deny it, don't even tell me how at least we've got the girl, and do _not_ tell me this is why I ought to carry a gun. Just suck it up and try to realize that he's actually got a good reason to be mad at you. And _don't_ say it."

Frank looked taken aback but not in the least abashed. "Say what?" was all he said, at least.

"That this is actually a lot like a drug bust."

Frank snorted and tried to suppress his laughter, but I wasn't amused. I hated having a partner, and not just because of Frank. They were all a hindrance, no matter how good they were. I didn't even like working with a team like Paris and Branson. I knew it was always useful to have another set of eyes and ears, but there was only so much help they could be before they started getting in the way. Skill and professionalism had nothing to do with it, really. I worked better as a solo act and that was all there was to it. I gave Frank another resentful glance, which he didn't notice, and scanned the sky once more before returning my attention to the fire escape.

"Get back in the house."

"Who the hell is that?"

"I said back in the house!"

"Are you al-"

"If there's more we need to be _in the house_."

"More what?"

I give Pao a glare that would have shut most people up, but Pao glares back and keeps pushing.

"Who is that guy?"

I ignore her and keep marching the sniper to the house. Luckily Frank and Pao come with. As we get through the front door, I turn my attention back to Pao. "You might want to consider showing some compassion for another human being in pain," I say in Chinese. I still haven't talked to her about those two men she killed in New York, and I'm still not sure exactly why she killed them. She doesn't rise to the jab and goes to cover the windows with some of the sheets Lucia has around for painting. Frank is more interested in the sniper.

"Having fun?" he asks me, eyeing the stranger.

"Shut up." I shove the sniper into a chair and start removing his weapons. Another gun, a switchblade, a real knife, a hypodermic, and a lighter. I want to do a more thorough search, but I also want his equipment. Making a split second decision, I call Frank over and ask him to go get the guy's stuff. He hesitates for a second but decides to do as I ask. I start tying up the sniper. I make sure he's uncomfortable, but not in significant pain. Then I go about searching more thoroughly for weapons.

Pao, Ben, and Christian are all asking me questions, but even though I hear them I'm not processing them. I want to know who sent this guy and I want to know _now_. As expected he has no identification on him, but he does have something in a medicine vial that I'm willing to bet is either an anesthetic or paralyzing agent. He's also got something that worries me greatly; a homing device that looks deactivated but might not be. I examine it closely and try to gauge the sniper's reaction. He's doing a bang up job of pretending he's in too much pain to notice what I'm doing, but I can tell he's worried. What he's worried about is harder to tell. I pocket it and decide to deposit it somewhere public and busy next chance I get. Unfortunately I don't recognize make, model, or source. Now is time to try and read the answer to my primary question from his eyes.

"Hey." I grab his chin with my hand and let him see my anger. I catch his eyes and keep them. "Who sent you?" I ask again in French. He looks away. He's about to lie. "Hey!" I bring his eyes back to me. "Who sent you?" There it is, a memory. The way his eye muscles move and other facial tells let me see the name he's remembering. Guilfoyle. Well that's weird. What did I do to piss off the mob? I avoid all dealings with strictly criminal organizations if I can help it. Maybe Guilfoyle's a middleman?

"Why does Guilfoyle want me dead?" I really just want to scare him; I don't expect him to know why. I've never known a hired gun to ask why. I didn't when I was one. Sure enough, he's shocked and he doesn't have anything more on this subject to hide. But he's still dangerous and I'm not entirely sure how to nullify that and keep him alive at the same time. There's always kneecapping, but that's a bit extreme. I decided to see what's in the vial. I pick up the hypodermic and take 20 c.c.s and place the needle near the sniper's upper arm. He looks petrified, so it must be something more sinister than anesthetic.

"Are you going to tell me what this is, or shall I inject you and find out?" I ask.

"A hyperalgesic."

I raise an eyebrow. Torture was in his repertoire, and might have been intended for this job. Pao grabs my arm and I realize I've been ignoring everyone.

"You going to tell us what's going on now?" she asks, looking unreasonably mad at me. I've been talking to the sniper in French, but beyond that she has no reason.

Frank shows up with the sniper's guns and bag. I yank my arm away from Pao's grip and take the equipment from Frank. I'm not really expecting to find anything too informative, but I still need an inventory. "Pao, I don't suppose you know anything the mob, do you?"

"The mob?"

"I didn't think so." I sigh. "Me neither, not really. Apparently I'm the target of a mob hit, and I have no idea why."

She stares at me. Ben, Frank, Christian, and Lucia stare at me, too. "Why does a mob hit man speak French?" Lucia asks me.

I ignore the question, letting them work it out for themselves, and start examining the sniper's stuff. He has the latest and most expensive in weaponry, no surprise there. His stuff is from all over Europe, except for his GPS software on his mobile. Looks like he was in Los Angeles recently and not just the airport. How recently "recently" is I'm not sure. He has a dozen passports that were sewn into the lining of his bag, each with a different name. His French passport was stamped in JFK two days ago and his US passport was stamped in LAX three weeks ago and two days before that SYD. Rji has been living in Australia the last few decades - she could be behind this. But Australia's a big country. I should probably assume I'm not going to get any answers from the sniper.

"I'm sorry I've brought this danger to your home, Lucia," I say as I start dismantling the guns. But Lucia's probably more concerned with getting answers out of me than apologies, but I don't give her the chance. "Frank, I don't suppose _you_ know anything about this, do you?" A PI in New York that knows nothing about the mob is hard to buy.

"I recognize the name Guilfoyle, he works with the Kellies. I got nothing to do with them, though." He's hiding something, but I don't think he's actually lying.

I haven't kept up with my mob politics. Everything I know about the Kellies is a decade out of date. Unless they start interfering with politics on a larger scale I don't pay attention. "Pao?" I ask again. "Still nothing?"

I can see the two men she killed in her eyes, but then they're replaced by defiance. "No," she says firmly. I feel a stab of sympathy for her.

"Well, this could have something to do with the arms dealers. Indirectly, anyway. Lucia, you want to hear the back story?"

Lucia doesn't really want to be involved, but her curiosity gets the better of her, and I relate what I know about Louisville. Christian's the only one who doesn't understand. But I cut across his questions.

"Here's what happens next."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: Progress

My first thought upon seeing Rome again was pretty much "oh shit." Marcus had at least done me the courtesy of letting me ride my horse, but that didn't change the fact that the last place in the world I wanted to be a slave at the moment was in Rome. Anywhere outside the city would have been preferable. I would have taken Constantinopolis. I would have taken fucking _Thrace_, but Marcus lived inside the pestilential city walls, so Rome it was.

His home was well managed, so there wasn't really a use for another slave. But his "wife" who was really his estate keeper decided she could find a use for me. At first I thought Marcus was going to argue with her; I was convinced he would want to keep me close so he could torment me, but he agreed, and off I went to the head of the household slaves.

To my surprise, Marcus left me alone or ignored me for years. I found my life was dull and tedious, but it was mind numbing, and a numb mind was preferable to a pained one, and to be honest was probably exactly what I needed. Only once on the anniversary of Allis' death did Marcus find me and beat me. His wife was at a complete loss and felt sorry for me, but her pity and kindness just made me feel guilty again. I was rude to her and she left me alone, but the irony of whence I derived pain wasn't lost on me. A return to the hard work of everyday life was most welcome.

I was just starting to recover some balance when my entire situation changed, almost over night. Marcus' wife called on me to wait on the master and his guest, which had never happened the entire time I had been with the household. Sure enough, his guest was another immortal, a Greek named Tiresias. Marcus was young compared to Tiresias and me, and may have been under the impression that Tiresias wouldn't be able to tell the difference in a new immortal and an ancient. I assumed Marcus was showing me off to Tiresias like a hunter would show off a lion he had tamed. Tiresias missed that particular subtlety, however, and behaved more like a thief invited into a beggar's hut only to find the beggar showing off a rare treasure. He completely ignored the customs of nobility and spoke to me directly.

"What an odd place to find someone of your caliber. Who are you?"

I barely needed to act to appear surprised and embarrassed. I refused to meet his eye and made a bit of an act of nearly dropping the platter. "I'm just a slave, sir."

Tiresias laughed and grabbed my arm as I tried to scurry back to the kitchen. "Marcus, you are either a genius or a fool. Tell me your name, girl, or I'll have to buy you off dear Marcus, here, and I don't think he would appreciate that."

Marcus, who had been practically gloating through the entire meal, now looked wary and uncertain. But he didn't say anything, so I had to answer. "My name is Tullia, lord."

"And I'm a horse's ass. Who are you?" I had always known I was going to run into another immortal eventually. I had hoped that it would result in Marcus' death or Marcus killing, and I cursed him mentally for being such a fool as to think anything good could come from a situation like this.

"My name is Tullia, lord," I repeated, doing my utmost to be submissive and deferential in my body language. I knew I wasn't fooling him, but if you're going to act, commit.

Tiresias sat up on his couch and pulled me closer. With his other hand he grabbed my chin and turned my face towards him. I stuck to my guns and refused to meet his eye, struggling only slightly and holding my platter steady. Tiresias tried to catch my eye for a moment, then looked over me at Marcus, who was still frozen on his couch. "Marcus, you have no idea of the viper you have brought into your home. No blood flows through these veins, just treachery, and she'll poison you if you're not careful."

I couldn't see Marcus, but I imagined he looked rather terrified. I could practically hear the gears turning in his head; he was trying to figure out a way of getting me away from Tiresias before anything happened. A pleasant dinner was beyond even his naive expectations. "What do _you_ know about it?" Marcus challenged, but he didn't even sound like he was trying to seem unconcerned.

Tiresias laughed again and twisted me around by my arm so I had to face Marcus. The platter I had been holding finally fell to the floor. "_This_ is no slave. It's not even human. You have sheep with more humanity than _this_. Maybe you should let it warm my bed tonight and I could try putting some humanity in it for you." I didn't meet Marcus' gaze. This was his mess. He ought to deal with it.

Marcus finally decided things were getting out of hand. "Unhand my slave," he said authoritatively. Paralyzed to commanding in five minutes. The aforementioned sheep could have gotten there faster.

Tiresias laughed and released me. I didn't bother catching my balance and fell forward on top of the spilt food. It would give me an excuse not to wait on them anymore. As Tiresias laughed at my spectacle, I scooped up the platter and ruined food and made for the kitchen.

A week later, Marcus was dead, killed by his own student (who I had never met). Tiresias' gift for spreading discord had also infected several important, if mortal, Roman denizens, and I was a free agent again. With a nagging sense of déjà vu, I left the city about to collapse in on itself. Only I had the sneaking suspicion only Tiresias would be spared by the falling rubble.

The sniper crouches next to me, rather uncomfortably, with Pao on his other side. Pao is paying a lot of attention to him, but it's unnecessary even if I don't waste the use of my eyes on him. My sense of sight is currently devoted to my binoculars, but the sniper still gets about forty percent of my attention, more than enough to keep him out of trouble.

"I don't get it," Pao whispers impatiently. "Why would she be here? I mean, could she really have followed us that quickly? And why _here_? This is just another warehouse like all the rest."

"All things come, Pao. I thought you had a higher respect for my talents than that." The corners of my mouth flicker as I only half attempt to suppress a grin.

"If she really is going to turn up here, why'd we bring _him_ with? Surely he'll just get in the way."

The sniper surprises me and preempts my response. "Oh, you're Shirley?" He turns towards me. "This is just one big misunderstanding, then. I had the wrong target. My mistake, I'll just be going then."

Pao nearly chokes trying to keep herself from laughing. I grab the sniper by the ear as he moves away, but he's not really trying yet. I'm not sure why it bothers me so much that Pao found that funny. It's probably just that her getting along with a contract killer doesn't ease my concern over her being a killer herself. I would dearly like to talk about it with her before I find Rji, but that's not the sort of discussion you have with a stranger present, especially when the stranger is a prisoner whose collarbone you've broken. We could always have a "private" discussion in Chinese, except I'm pretty sure English and French aren't the only languages this guy speaks, and Mandarin is a tad mainstream. I taught Ben my mother tongue, but not Pao. I had deemed Chinese more important for her, and being trilingual is a lot to expect of a child when only one language is spoken in the community.

So I bite my tongue, keep my eyes pressed to my binoculars, and stay alert for trouble from the sniper. Minutes pass. Pao keeps trying to get me talking, the sniper keeps making snide comments, and I keep ignoring them. It isn't until minutes turn to hours that the sniper starts to loose energy and Pao starts outright complaining. I'm about to break down and actually talk to her when the sniper tries what I've been expecting for ages.

Pao, though small, is still taller and weighs more than me, and I guess this was what made the sniper attack me first instead of her, even though she was obviously less prepared than I was. He's even quite clever about his surprise attack. He feigns striking my midriff with his elbow and uses the cover and momentum of that attack to bring his leg around and kick my face. Unfortunately for him, I have better reactions than the average bear and grab his attacking leg and twist. Not quite as painful as kneecapping him like I threatened, but the damage to ligaments and tendons is about the same. He sprawls on his back, groaning rather more loudly than I'd like.

"That was stupid," I say to him. "That one'll take you a months of physical therapy to recover from." He just groans and tries not to move. I return to the binoculars. Pao rolls her eyes and tries to keep him quiet.

The sniper is still more or less unconscious on the ground forty-five minutes later when I finally see a sign that my instincts haven't been completely devastated by lack of sleep. A young immortal, maybe roughly Lucia's age, enters the warehouse. He unlocks but doesn't open up the warehouse doors, then disappears into an inner office. Half an hour later, he comes back out and waits outside. Pao and I watch him chain-smoke for another fifteen minutes or so before a SUV drives up. Two more immortals get out, one definitely an ancient, the other somewhere in between. No sign of Rji.

I put down my binoculars and move to the sniper, clasping my hand over his mouth before prodding him awake. "Come on," I mouth, both for his benefit and Pao's. "Time to move." To his credit, the sniper actually makes a lot of effort in keeping quiet while he tries to walk on his torn up knee. Pao tries to help him, but I sign for her to go first and help him myself.

Getting back to the car takes longer than I would like, but it's my own fault for injuring the sniper. I had counted on delays like this due to him, anyway, so it's not a big deal, although I do put myself at quite a bit of risk of a speeding ticket once we get on the way. Once we get back to Lucia's part of town, Pao starts trying to tell me what turns to make when I miss Lucia's street. Instead of arguing with her I just ignore her.

Parking on a street on the other side of the hill from Lucia's house (the sniper's car is probably over here somewhere), I hush Pao and help her get the sniper out of the car. I could probably leave the two of them with the car safely enough, but I don't want to risk it. We climb the ridge, keeping out of sight as best we can, until we're in more or less the same location I found the sniper the previous morning. I don't think this registers with him, but Pao notices.

"What are we _doing?_" she rasps.

"Catching someone red-handed," I mouth back.

She doesn't look satisfied, but at least she shuts up. I finally find a good position and let the sniper lay down while I get my binoculars back out and start spying on Lucia's house. All is well so far. This I can't determine so much by sight as by instinct, but at least seeing confirms that nothing appears to be amiss. I wonder how much longer we'll have to wait. Part of me expects Rji to move quickly, but another part expects her to be thorough and cautious. Pondering this, I set the binoculars down long enough to get into my little backpack. I had Pao two cereal bars, one for her and one for the sniper, and get one out for myself. Might as well make use of the time.

When the sniper falls asleep (for real this time), I decide I'm not going to get a better chance to talk to Pao.

"Pao? Can I ask you something?"

Amazed at her good fortune in finally getting me to talk, she doesn't even make a wiseass remark. "Of course."

"Why did you kill those men, the ones in New York?" I steal a glance at her, hoping to see a trace of shame or remorse. I do, but it's hidden under callousness.

"Pfft. They were criminals. They were in serious trouble anyway, I just put them out of their misery."

"I know you feel bad about it, Pao. It's better to deal with that sooner rather than later," I make sure I sound gentle rather than lecturing. Then I add, with more emotion than I intended, "I know about this, believe me." Maybe I just want her to be ready for some of the horrible things she's going to hear about me in the not so distant future.

I half expect her to be annoyed and dismiss my advice, but she sounds more like she doesn't believe I know what's really going on inside her head. "It's not that… I mean I feel kind of bad about them, but it's more like… it was harder than I expected." She blushes and looks away.

I nod. "That's a good thing, Pao, not bad. It's _not_ cowardice."

I've hit a nerve. "But how do you know? I mean, they were one step removed from terrorists, they were a danger to the Watchers, a danger to world governments at large, and just generally scum. Surely I did what I had to do, and that shouldn't have been so hard."

I shake my head. "The reasons don't matter, Pao. Of course it should be harder if you're killing an innocent, but the reasons don't abrogate the fact that you're taking human life. That should always be hard. If you didn't hesitate, something would be missing in you, and it can be much harder to find than these worries you're having now."

Stubborn my daughter may be, but she knows the truth when it dances in front of her with a neon sign. I personally feel ashamed of myself for comforting her about murder, but an argument about whether she had to kill them or not would not and is not going to do her any good, and probably won't for a while yet. I just hope she's alive to face that conversation.

We sit in silence for a while and I wrestle with myself. I really want to tell her about Rji and the horrible truth about me, but I'm afraid. Not really of facing her judgment, but also of the memories. The longer I can go without intrusions the better.

I'm just on the point of telling her when I notice two immortals converging on Lucia's house.

Aristocrats. I hated how powerful people always ended up so royally obnoxious. Chastity had kept me waiting in this stuffy sitting room for nearly two hours now, I swear, for the sole purpose of demonstrating that he was more important than me. I had sent the servants out the instant I arrived, but now I was regretting it, simply because I couldn't send one of them to see what was taking so long.

The door opened, and in walked chastity, wearing an air of self-importance like an ugly uniform. Resisting the urge to strike the man, I preempted his greeting. "You need to act quickly. The merchants are out for your blood, and not just yours. All of you. They can act quickly, and probably will if and when they decide to. Have you taken any of the steps I've asked you to?"

Put out by my dismissal of pleasantries, he became defensive. "You know it's not that simple. Especially when I don't know who these merchants are. If you would-"

"I'm not telling you. When they move on you is when I'll tell you. But you need to be ready for that. You need to know how to strike and how hard. You need plain-clothes soldiers in the outer city, and you should have archers on the higher buildings. And not out in plain sight, more subtle than that. In the upper stories if you prefer."

He silenced me with a wave. "That is all very expensive and-"

"Expensive! Expensive is waging a completely pointless war with the primary source of your income. But that road has _obviously_ been crossed. You told me you could speak for the aristocracy at large. You needn't foot the bill yourself. Enlist the others. Divide the city up amongst yourselves and protect your share like I've described. Have you made _any_ overtures with the thieves at _all_?"

Chastity was thoroughly taken aback. "These things take proper planning and t-"  
"_Don't_ say they take time. You've had time. Now you're running out. Do you think I'm doing all this for _my_ benefit? If I were thinking only of myself, I'd have left this cesspool and never come back. If you think they can't get to you behind your walls of silk, think again. Save your own life."

I turned and stormed out of the room, but halted at the door and turned back. "And if you keep me waiting for hours on end again, there won't be a next time." He might have considered how difficult it was for me to explain my absences to the merchants. I just hoped child's light wasn't developing suspicions about me.

Practically dragging the barely-conscious sniper behind us, Pao and I hurry down the hill to Lucia's house. One of them is at the back door, probably breaking in, the other, a woman, actually walked up and rang the damned bell. At least neither of them is Rji. My hunch is she's observing remotely, although it's possible she's going to join in. I don't think she will, primarily because you don't enlist five of your former students just to do all the work yourself.

Hidden against the side of the house, I wait until I hear the front door open and the girl step inside before moving around to the front of the house. Before revealing myself, I turn to Pao, who is struggling to keep the sniper conscious. "Pao, once we get inside, stick with the sniper and try to keep away from the two intruders, alright?" Not exactly rocket science, but I do _not_ want her joining the fray. She nods and I relax a bit.

Still crouching, I move through the front door so I'm directly behind the girl. I'm just in time to see Christian drawing his sword in front of her as I strike her lower back with as much force as I can muster. She falls forward into Christian, who does a good job of staying on his feet, while I move forward and take her sword. She hurries to get her feet under her, scurrying away from Christian and me, but I'm faster. I hit her temple with the flat of her sword, successfully knocking her out. Christian asks something about what I'm doing here, but my attention is focused on Lucia and the fight she's having at the back door.

"Christian, tie up this one and keep an eye on her," I say as I head for the back door, still armed with the woman's sword.

Lucia and the other immortal look rather ridiculous fighting in the cramped kitchen, but they don't seem to notice. I really ought to leave the two of them alone, but my respect for tradition only extends so far. I join it, intent on ending this fight quickly. I don't know where Ben and Frank are, although hopefully they're simply hiding. Lucia gives me a disgruntled look as I draw alongside her, but she doesn't disengage. The man looks concerned at being double-teamed, but I don't give him enough time to consider it. Surprised, he looks down at his partner's sword in his chest, uncomprehending as to how it got there.

"There was no need for that," Lucia says, giving me a reproving look.

"Where are Frank and Ben?"

She gestures to the other room, and sure enough, there's Frank, gun out, crouching in a corner with Ben. Pao has joined him with the sniper. Feeling immensely relieved, I return to the front room where Christian and the woman are. Lucia starts to follow me, then changes her mind and stays with the "dead" man. The woman hasn't come around yet, but with Christian's help I drag her into the kitchen. I pull the sword out of the man's chest and take a seat.

"Anybody want to bet on who comes around first?" I ask the room at large, trying to lighten the mood.

Frank scoffs as he enters the kitchen. "I thought you were 'dealing with business elsewhere.'"

"Oh, right. You were bait. Sorry." I grin at him to show I'm not really sorry.

"What happened to one on one, Aiar?" Lucia asks, still annoyed at me.

"Hah. Rji's idea of a fair fight is me against her and five of her old students. Sorry if I don't feel like fighting fair."

"Well, you have five others on your side now, too."

I honestly hadn't thought of that. "Pao and Ben don't count. Christian barely counts; he can't be much older than he looks. Frank shouldn't technically count, either."

"That makes you the underdog, not outnumbered."

I laugh. "Me? The underdog? Di immortales! I hope not." Or maybe I hope so.

"What do you mean?" Christian asks, who looks as confused as Lucia.

I shrug. The last thing I'm going to do is brag. "Nothing. Just that I hadn't thought of it like that. I'm more worried about those two than myself," I say, gesturing at Ben and Pao, who are talking in the other room.

I'm spared from having to answer more questions when the woman starts waking up. Not trusting to the makeshift bonds Christian fashioned, I move to her side and pin her with my knee. I grab her chin and turn her head towards me.

"Congratulations," I say, mocking cheerfulness, "you just nominated yourself for our messenger service. Luckily for you, you don't have to contend with snow or rain or heat or gloom of night, although you'll probably have to work through a headache." Now she's more awake and looking pissed off. Even though her ankles are tied, she tries to kick at me with both legs. Lucia steps in unnecessarily and pins the girl's legs down with her foot. "Now, now, that's no way to thank us. You haven't even gotten your message yet."

"Go to hell! I'll never help _you_!" She tries to spit at me but she doesn't quite have the range of motion to put any momentum behind it.

"Oh?" I raise my eyebrows, giving her an amused sort of grin. "And who am I?"

She wasn't expecting that. "Murderer!" she says when she recovers.

"Yes, and so are you, Radha, and so are all of our kind." She looks shocked that I used her name, but still has plenty of bile for me.

"I'm _nothing_ like you!" she hisses, but I've just lost patience for this argument.

"Yes yes, now here's what you're to tell Rji. Mussel Rock Park, by the rock, tonight at sunset. I'd tell her to come alone but I know she won't." I don't give her the chance to respond, I just haul her up, with Lucia's help, and start dragging her outside.

In Gaelic, I say to Lucia, "Do you mind dropping her in an ally somewhere? You can take Frank with you."

She nods. "Sure. I like your friend, Frank. Where did you find him?"

"Hey, Frank!" I call before we reach the front door. "Come help Lucia, please."

Frank grabs the struggling Radha and I return to the kitchen. The other one is still "dead," but Christian is keeping a good watch on him, anyway. Pao and Ben are still in the other room with the sniper. Christian turns to me as I enter.

"How'd you know her name?"

I consider claiming to be a mind reader, a claim I've made before, sarcastically and otherwise, but decide my rapport with Lucia and Christian could do with some improvement. "It's little things like where she looks, the muscles she uses when thinking of herself, a whole bunch of minute signs in her body language that reveal what she's thinking about. You can learn to control the signs you yourself make, but obviously no one ever taught her."

Christian seems to find this very entertaining. "Oh yeah? So what am I thinking?" He does his best to keep his face blank, but he's trying too hard.

I laugh and say, "That I've watched too many Bond movies. Look, it's a nifty trick for dinner parties, but it isn't infallible or anything." As I say it, a thought occurs to me. Guilfoyle… I assumed the Kelly family, but I know another Guilfoyle that would make more sense than the mob. I think Michelson has been lying to Army Intelligence about me.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve: Zenith

On the day child's light told me what the other merchants planned to do, I started to have doubts about my own plans with the aristocrats. As long as child's light had kept the merchants' bloodlust from me I could excuse my double-crossing as necessary. Once he told me about them, however, I began to feel I ought to return the favor and tell him about my activities. Unfortunately, it took me hours to realize this, and by then I had had plenty of times to think of reasons not to tell him, the most important of which was that he was likely to expose me as a traitor. I, of course, did not believe myself to be a traitor, but I knew I was likely to be the only one who held that viewpoint.

Once again I stood on the wall with child's light and little spider, waiting for the signal that would start the whole plan in motion. A small army was due to arrive to protect the aristocrats, and although the merchants didn't know this yet, to retake the city. Child's light was in charge of starting a riot in the square we were overlooking to delay the foreign army while others launched an assault on the aristocrats' homes. Little spider was, of course, instrumental in child's light's plans. I was supposed to be in charge of warning anyone and everyone if our plans went to hell. My real plans were a bit sketchy, but the aristocrats had been warned so my only real obligation as I saw it was to give a list of names to chastity once the action started. I was hoping to save as many lives as possible that day, which was why the foreign army was being delayed instead of outright attacked.

"Today will be bloody," little spider said, gesturing with his chin to the east.

"That's superstition," I said, sounding authoritative but not feeling very confident.

"It's a spectacular sunrise, even if it is inauspicious," child's light said.

"I don't trust in auspices. How you interpret them is rarely how they ought to be interpreted. Better simply to think ahead and let hindsight be your interpreter."

Little spider smirked at me. "You would ignore the signs even if the gods themselves came down to interpret them for you."

I smirked back. "And _you_ would let the bowel movements of reptiles tell you how to run your life."

Child's light stepped in, even though there was no real need. "We already know blood will be shed this day. Let us just hope it is not ours."

I suddenly felt chill, even though it was a balmy day already. I was afraid to speak my mind, so instead I said, "If it all goes to hell you and I meet at west's house tonight, right?"

Child's light nodded. "It won't go to hell," he said, although that wasn't what I needed reassurance about.

"Just stay alive."

"Thanks for your concern," little spider cut in, obviously annoyed at being left out of the conversation.

My sardonic mask felt uncomfortable, but I didn't want either of them to see how truly frightened I was for their lives. "We know _you'll_ be fine, spider. You always are." And he probably would be. But child's light was going to be a hunted man after tonight, I had seen to that.

Before little spider or child's light could contradict me, we saw the candle being placed in the upper window of the home at the corner of the road. Time to move.

I now have two prisoners and not a clue what to do with either of them. The immortal I guess I'll turn back over to Rji at the park, but I still don't know what to do with the Frenchman, and the immortal is proving to be a difficult prisoner to keep.

"Why do we have to leave? I thought you wanted a confrontation," Pao says.

"I want a _private_ confrontation, and I think we've done enough damage to Lucia's property as it is. Besides, there's more than one enemy that knows we're here."

Lucia, to my surprise, agrees with me. "Aiar's right. It's better to meet in neutral territory, especially when you can't properly defend your territory." I thought she'd resent me calling all the shots and (seemingly) assuming she and her student would go along with it.

"What are we going to do with them?" Frank asks, gesturing at the prisoners. He's been questioning all my ideas, but I can't quite figure out why. Maybe Tiresias' words are coming back to him, or maybe it was Radha calling me a murderer, or both.

I shrug. "Take them with."

Pao still isn't satisfied. "But we're just going to go someplace _else_ to meet them. Why not save ourselves the trouble and let them come here? They can't plan an attack any quicker than we can plan a defense."

Before I can say anything, Lucia defends me again. "If we stay in one place for too long, we make ourselves vulnerable to a wider variety of tricks and traps than if we move. We won't know when they're coming if we stay. It won't take Radha too long to find her way back to Rji, and then they'll be able to attack us at their leisure. A prearranged time and place give us both the same amount of time to scout it out and prepare for the other to scout it out, as well. They can still lay a trap, but it's more difficult and they don't know if it's watched."

"Why don't _you_ meet them there, Aiar, and we'll find somewhere safe to lay low?" Frank asks.

That's harder to answer. "You're safer with me," I say simply, hoping he won't argue. It would be true under normal circumstances, but my main concern is that I don't want them captured and used against me.

Frank opens his mouth to argue the point, but Ben of all people intercedes. "We should stay together." Pao nods emphatically, but her primary concern is protecting me, while Ben's more worried about losing me all over again.

"Come on," I say, gathering the last of the sniper's equipment. I don't want to get into this argument, especially not right now. Lucia, Christian, Pao, and Ben follow me without question, so Frank has no choice but to follow. Pao and Ben have taken charge of the sniper, which at the moment means keeping him awake long enough to get to the car. Pao keeps her gun out just in case he's faking how much pain he's in. Lucia and I take care of the struggling immortal, whose name I believe is Diya. He hasn't said a word to us except a few curses, but I'm not in the mood for banter anyway.

As we move to the cars, I glance around for watchful eyes. The thought that Army Intelligence might be targeting me is much more disconcerting than the mob. The mob may have eyes and ears just about everywhere, but the Army has some hefty technology on their side that I don't exactly have the time or resources to evade in present company. On my own it wouldn't be a problem, but in addition to my significant entourage I have two prisoners to worry about.

Wishing I had time to get on a computer, I wonder if I should waste my time, thoughts, and cell phone minutes on finding out who really hired that sniper. But in all probability it is a moot point. Although, I have to wonder if this is somehow connected to Tiresias. It's not his MO to just show up once. I may have thrown him temporarily by leaving New York, but it's unlikely. If he did send a hit man after me he's probably testing my limits, or maybe just seeing what I'll do, or if I'd actually get shot. Tiresias has no interest in me dead, but I'm sure he'd enjoy playing mind or spy games with me. But that's assuming his appearance has nothing to do with Rji, which is contradicted by his timing. Again I'm back to what interest he might have in Rji.

I _know_ that at one point, Rji and Tiresias were sworn enemies. When I first heard it I thought it might be misinformation, but investigation proved they did in fact have a dispute over a potential immortal which resulted in a feud. One of Tiresias' students killed one of Rji's soon thereafter, and the two would have declared all out war if it hadn't been for an Inquisition. Tiresias left for Tunis to help the Turks and Rji for Shanghai for some financial reason or another and the two had no contact for years, although some of their students had encounters. I haven't kept the best of tabs on Tiresias, but I usually have an idea of where in the world Rji is. Beyond that, information on her is a bit dangerous to seek. She, like me, does favors for the Watchers in exchange for privacy, and I've never wanted to risk anyone's life to spy on her directly. I keep up with the rumors, so I have a working knowledge of who she encounters and allies herself with, but that sort of information is often fourth or fifth hand at best, making it unreliable and outdated.

So it _is_ possible she and Tiresias are working together. It is also possible Tiresias is gunning for Rji and is using me as a human shield or bait or a distraction or something. I need to trust my instincts, but the problem is my instincts are telling me it's none of the above, and that I'm missing something in their whole dynamic. I'm not sure where the sniper fits in, or even if he does. I have a lot of enemies, some that I don't even know about. What could I be missing, exactly? Well, that stop sign, but who's counting? If it's not in front of my nose, I'd probably have to dig to find it, and I don't have time for digging. I still really need sleep, but that doesn't look like happening any time soon.

Rubbing my eyes, I pull up to the office building I've decided we can use for a safe house for the next few hours. Maybe it'll give me a chance to get some sleep. We're going to have to be creative to get the sniper and the immortal in without rousing suspicion, but aside from that we should be alright. I don't own the building this time, but I indirectly own one of the businesses that leases here, and I've called ahead to request use of some of their offices. I'm pretty confident that my financial dealings are hidden well enough that until I set foot here, no one could have connected me to this place or even the business I'm imposing on. The CIA tolerates a lot from me, but I sincerely doubt they'd turn a blind eye if they knew how many American identities I had or how many companies I held significant stock in. I'm not really worried about the CIA investigating me for this sort of thing, but I know the Feds have, are, and will. This is the sort of thing the FBI would love to have on me. They've been trying to get the CIA to "share" me with them for years. And if the FBI and the CIA can't find it, the military doesn't stand a chance. What they _could_ find, unfortunately, is my car with a satellite.

It had been years since Tiresias had painted Rome red, and I was finally heading back to Italy. I had been in Germany, but my daughter Liesl had died, so it was time for a new location. My tendency would have been to go on a pilgrimage back to my fatherland, but I was supposed to be avoiding old habits to stay away from depression, so on a whim I chose Tuscany.

Three weeks from the last "real" civilization I ditched the road to avoid other travelers, despite the delay of trailblazing. I was just starting to enjoy the woods and the mountains and being on my own when I felt another immortal approaching and my horse threw a shoe. Cursing my horrid luck, I considered hiding, but I didn't want to turn my horse loose yet. I untied my bow from under the blanket that covered most of my saddlebags and equipment and had to remember where my quiver was.

I had just fitted an arrow when I heard approaching hoof beats from behind me. Twisting around in the saddle to get a shot, I realized whoever was behind me probably wasn't actually following me, or I would have been aware of them sooner. But unless they were a horrible woodsman, whoever it was had to know they were following someone else's tracks at this point. Why else leave the road?

She came through the trees at the perfect location for me to fire a warning shot and string another arrow. She drew her sword and issued a challenge.

"I am Liùsaidh NicCoinnich! Tulach Ard!"

I rolled my eyes and shot my second arrow. I didn't know if she thought my warning shot was a miss or if I would be honorable or something and fight her blade to blade. She fell from her horse with a satisfying grunt. I drew a third arrow and guided my horse towards her with my legs. Her horse didn't seem to mind and was wandering off in search of grass. I hadn't killed her, but she wasn't going to be swinging that sword at me in the next five minutes.

"So," I said in German, hoping she spoke enough, because I hadn't been in her neck of the woods, well, ever, and had no idea if I knew her language well enough for mutual understanding. "Liùsaidh NicCoinnich, is this how you greet all of our kind, or has someone been spreading lies about me again?"

She fingered the arrow in her chest gingerly and tried to sit up. It didn't work and she glared at me as she lay back down. "You're supposed to identify yourself, too." Her German was heavily accented but otherwise fine.

"Sorry, I don't give my name out to random challengers. Does that mean you don't know who I am or do, but don't want to give anything away?" I could tell she didn't actually know who I was, but I was curious to see how she would react.

She squirmed, still trying to dig up the courage to try sitting up again. "I just found your trail while hunting. Come on, stop toying with me, if you're going to kill me, kill me." I had to give her full marks for bravery.

I relaxed my bowstring but didn't put the arrow back in the quiver. "I'm not going to kill you. You mind telling me why you want to kill me?"

She shrugged, which was stupid because the next thing she did was wince in pain. Before the pain subsided, she grabbed the arrow shaft and yanked it out. Luckily for her, the point stayed on. Gasping, she rolled over on her stomach while the worst of it passed. I edged my horse away in case she picked up her sword.

I thought she had forgotten what I had asked, but as she was sitting up she said, "I was just preempting the inevitable. I never met one of us who didn't want a fight."

"So who was your teacher? Did you have to fight them, too?"

She made a noise in her throat. "That's different."

"Don't say never unless you mean never," I said, putting my arrow away. "You ought to go find your horse." I was going to have to pull my horse's other shoes, because he had twisted his pretty good when it came off.

She cursed in Gaelic and looked in her horse's direction, but turned to me again as she stood up. "Wait, you're not just _leaving_, are you?"

"That was the general idea. Look, just head back to the road. Hopefully yours is the last path I cross before the pass." I talked a good line, but I could tell by the look in her eye I wasn't going to get rid of her that easily. At least it was a friendly look instead of a murderous look. That wasn't something I saw very often.

"You're just going to get rid of me, just like that?" She looked doubtful, as if she couldn't decide if I were being naïve or conniving.

"I just want to be left alone," I said, surprising myself with the truth and the emotion I let show.

Liùsaidh didn't buy it. She bent down and picked up her sword, not really threateningly but demonstrating her distrust. "Nothing's that simple."

I sighed and put my bow across my shoulder. "Look, your horse is getting harder to catch. Just go on your way, alright?" I didn't wait for her to answer and turned my horse back around to be on my way. She didn't answer and took off after her horse.

I knew I hadn't seen the end of her, and I was unlikely to be able to loose her in the time it took for her to catch her horse. If I had been on foot it would have been easy, but I didn't want to shake her bad enough to abandon my horse. Sure enough, I hadn't been on my way an hour when I heard hooves behind me again. I considered fitting an arrow again, but thought better of it. Liùsaidh trotted up behind me, this time without sword in hand.

"Can't you just mind your own business?" I called over my shoulder.

"There's often meaning in a chance meeting in a wild," she said. "Who _are_ you, anyway? I barely felt you were there until I saw you."

"I'm called Frauke. And a chance meeting in the wild is just a chance meeting and exactly the sort of thing I avoid." She moved her horse alongside mine, but it was rather difficult for her to stay that close because of the trees.

"You're _called_ Frauke?" Damn, she picked up on that particular subtlety. "I see. Why are you so antisocial? And why don't you want to kill me? Isn't that a dangerous attitude to have?"

I had peaked her curiosity. A curse on the young! They never leave well enough alone. "Why are _you_ so interested? You've escaped with your life, be grateful and go."

She laughed, surprising me. "That's no so great a feat if you had no intention of taking my life at all! I've just never met one of us who was so… weird."

"Weird? Pfft. You've been spending too much time on the continent." I nudged my horse away from hers, trying to avoid getting drawn into this conversation. "Look, just go, okay? Forget you met me and you'll be better off."

"Oh so this whole misanthropy is a _noble_ thing, is it? People are just better off without you, and you're being considerate by avoiding them. That's reasonable."

"_Some_ people are better off without me. Just go home. You're a little young to be challenging every immortal you run across in the wide world."

I knew I shouldn't have brought up age, but somehow I just couldn't help myself. Sure enough, she was incensed. "_Young_! How the hell do you know how old or young I am? You know, age doesn't mean a damn thing except that you're older."

I shrugged. Since it didn't look like I was going to be able to get rid of her, I might as well tend to my horse's shoes sooner rather than waiting for nightfall. Reining my horse to a halt, I dismounted and started poking around in my equipment for pliers. Liùsaidh halted as well and asked what I was looking for.

"My horse threw a shoe," I said, indicating his left front with a nod of my head.

She dismounted as well and bent to look, although making sure she could keep an eye on me at the same time. "Came off clean at least. Didn't you pick it up?"

I shook my head. "He twisted it pretty good and I haven't got an anvil."

She ran her hand along his leg and I realized she had quite a bit of experience with animals. I found my pliers and started on his other shoes while she held my horse (unnecessarily) and spoke to him in Gaelic. When I was on the last shoe, she switched back to German. "Where are you headed, anyway?"

I snorted. "That's your business less than my name is. Surely you have something better to do than annoy me?"

She considered me for a moment. "I'll make a deal with you. I'll leave when you give me good reason to."

Sunset just isn't the same anymore. You have to get pretty damn far from civilization before night is actually dark. Mussel Rock Park is definitely not far enough away. But the ocean pounds the rocks pretty hard, so at least you can't hear the city.

Lucia leads the way down to the beach and towards the rock with Frank and Pao not far behind. Frank wanted to stay behind with the sniper, but when Pao and Ben flat out refused to be left behind I didn't even have to talk him out of it. I imagine the sniper probably won't be where we left him in a few hours, but at the moment I just don't care. Ben stays ahead of me but close while Christian and I bring up the rear with Diya. I don't trust Diya enough to untie his legs, but I've at least given him enough leeway so he can walk. I'm not planning on keeping him much longer, anyway.

The salt air and the sound of the waves brings back memories I didn't know I had; making Pao put sunscreen on, teaching Paul to fish, hiding from Io in a boat, digging for clams with Murielle. Unpleasant memories threaten to intrude, but I focus on Ben's voice and they recede. I _really_ don't want to do this.

"This is a lovely park," Ben says. "Have you been here before?"

"Just once," I say, "but it was before it was a park."

"That's Mussel Rock?"

"Yeah. We can't get to it without getting wet, but we don't need to."

I glance up and down the beach for Rji and company. I don't feel them yet, which means they're probably not here yet. Rji may know how to hide her presence from other immortals, but I'm quite sure her younger students don't. She probably intends to come late and surround us since she's not here yet. On my own I would prefer the late arrival, as well, but she's probably relying on the capabilities of her accomplices more than I am mine.

Lucia calls back to me. "Here?" She slows down and looks around.

"Pretty much," I shout back. This is about as close to the rock as we can get.

Christian and I deposit Diya in the sand next to Lucia. Pao and Frank are arguing about how vulnerable we are here. They're not even bothering to hide their attraction anymore, although I think the only ones who haven't caught on are Frank and Pao. Lucia moves to my side and speaks to me in Gaelic.

"Haven't changed your mind, have you?"

I shake my head, trying to calm my nerves. "Just protect my children, all right? Whatever happens."

She catches something in my voice that I didn't intend to be there. "What does that mean?"

I take a chance and meet her searching eyes. "I mean I want them to leave here alive. Frank, too, but he chose this, kind of. I made their choice for them. Just protect them. That's all I'm asking."

Lucia nods, her uncertainty appeased. I feel a stab of guilt for manipulating her, but let it go. I have more important things to worry about, like where Rji is. For the first time in millennia my nerves are actually interfering with my instincts. Frank also wants a private word, apparently, so Lucia returns to watching Diya.

"So what's the plan? It's not like you to get this far into a situation without micromanaging what we're each supposed to do."

Pao joins us and nods. "What exactly are you expecting to happen? If you don't tell me otherwise I'm going to assume it's all right for me to shoot if need be."

I frown at them. "No one's doing any fighting if I can help it. Only shoot to defend yourselves, not me or Lucia or even Christian. Understood?"

Pao doesn't look happy, but Frank is more worried about something else. "That's it? No fighting? You can't be serious. This thing is going to come to blows, Aiar."

I don't meet his eye, instead I keep scanning the approaches for signs of Rji et al. Fleetingly I wonder how many Watchers are going to be here tonight, if any. Rji might have scared them off for us, and without a telescopic lens I don't think they could see us without us seeing them, and that's one of their cardinal rules. Of course, even the semi-darkness of night would give them some cover. To Frank I say, "Just cover your own ass, Frank, and protect Pao and Ben. You're here for them, not me."

"We don't need his help," Pao says, annoyed, and that distracts Frank enough so I don't have to pay attention to them anymore.

Just then, I start to feel the presence of other immortals approaching. "Heads up," I say loudly enough for everyone to hear me.

Rji, in the flesh, leads Radha and the three immortals I saw at the warehouse down the beach towards us. They all wear their scabbards openly, like a threat. Rji looks particularly intimidating all in white. It must be for her brother, because I doubt she would ever mourn me. Maybe it's out of respect for my children. Lucia and Christian draw their swords. I restrain them with a gesture, more to draw Rji's attention to myself than because Lucia and Christian need the warning.

Rji's students draw their swords, but Rji doesn't draw hers. My nerves start manifesting themselves in my stomach. I'm not sure why I'm so nervous. It's possibly just concern for my children, but it could be simple anticipation.

Rji stops about ten paces away and her students stop, as well. She bows to me.

"Hello, Aiar."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen: Convergence

No one moves. I take a steadying breath before responding.

"Hello, Rji." I give a slight bow in response. "I have someone for you."

I turn and grab Diya, shoving him rather unceremoniously across the sand to Rji's feet. She ignores him, but two of her students move to help him.

"I would have thought you'd have put them on a plane to Chile." She motions with her chin towards Pao and Ben. Pao sneers and is about to speak, but I cut her off.

"What is between you and I, Rji, has nothing to do with them."

I step forward, away from the others. Anger flares in Rji's eyes. "What was between you and I had nothing to do with my brother!"

I cast my eyes to the ground. "I know. I know you don't believe me, but I regret what I have done." I pluck up courage from somewhere and meet her eye again. "I regret it more than you can imagine."

Thousands of years of hate for me make Rji's eyes terrifying. She draws her sword and makes a hostile gesture towards me, although she doesn't approach. "Regret! Don't speak to me of regret! You speak nothing but lies!"

I nod slowly. "Which is why I'll waste no more words on you." I kneel, then bend over my knees, exposing the back of my neck to her.

I don't need to see her to know how confused and disbelieving she is. "This is a trick," she says.

My heart pounds in my ears as I grip the sand. A long moment passes, where Pao is the only one who is more agitated than Rji. Finally, Rji turns to one of her students and speaks to him in Chinese. I can practically hear the expression on Pao's face. Rji's student approaches me, cautiously at first, but when he comes in range of my hands he gains a bit more confidence. He sheaths his sword, then grabs my upper arms and pulls me up to face Rji, pinning my arms very efficiently behind my back.

I can feel the tension mounting behind me, but I can't see any of my companions so can only guess who is exchanging glances with who. Rji approaches, searching my eyes irately. She suddenly lifts her sword point to my neck, testing me to see what I'll do.

"What's the meaning of this?" she demands.

I'm having difficulty breathing because of how my arms are restrained. "A life for a life. I repay my debt to you."

Frank makes a noise behind me, having just realized what I really came here to do. Lucia probably figured it out already. Rji doesn't buy it. "This won't save your children's lives."

I shake my head, although it's rather hard to do. "This isn't for them. It's for Lien."

Anger renews the blaze in her eyes and she lowers her sword and strikes me in the face. "Don't you _dare_ say his name!" Behind me Pao nearly draws her gun, but Frank restrains her.

I meet her eye again, ignoring the taste of blood in my mouth. "If all I wanted was to protect them, we would have disappeared. I have before, you know I have. You're the last person alive who has a claim on my life. Take it now. Avenge your brother." Memories start to intrude again and I stop.

Superimposed on Rji's image is Lien's, fighting me in the firelight. I see his eyes as I killed him, I hear Rji's shout of rage. She's surpassed her potential now, and the years lie heavily on her, as does the pain of her lost brother. Reeling and confused from a new flash of memories, I feel myself start to cry. I struggle to concentrate on the present, which succeeds in getting myself to stop crying, but doesn't stop the flow of memories. Faces of the people I've killed. The feel of a knife or a sword or a stick or a rope as I take another life. The rush and satisfaction I feel when they die makes me ill. My hand moves of its own volition to protect my stomach, but I can't move my hand. I let my knees buckle, and the pain in my arms and shoulders brings me back to the present.

Rji is watching me closely, as if trying to determine if I'm acting or not. "This is a trick," she repeats, but with less conviction.

"For Lien," I say, and another intrusive memory assaults me. Marcus holds a knife to my throat. "For all of them. It is just." I don't realize until a moment later that I was speaking in Latin. But Rji spent time in the Empire, and although it's possible she's forgotten it, she seems to understand.

With a nod from Rji, her student lets me go and I fall to the sand again. She watches me for a moment, and again I hunch over my knees and expose the back of my neck. In a sudden movement, she descends on me, and I hear her sword whistle through the air. Pao shouts something, and Frank starts struggling with her. Lucia moves towards them both, but it all seems very far away. Then I feel Rji's sword strike my neck, but she stops it. Blood trickles around my throat and drips onto the sand, and I'm pretty sure she's chipped one of my vertebrae, but the cut isn't very deep and is mostly along the back and side of my neck.

I wince as she pulls the blade away. Pao, Frank, and Lucia are all frozen again, watching. I sit up to look at Rji. Rji ignores them and stares down at me, a thoughtful look on her face. A wave of disappointment and renewed guilt mingle with relief.

Rji opens her mouth to speak, when all of us, except of course for Frank, Pao, and Ben, feel someone else approaching. I curse aloud before I can stop myself and stand up, knowing who it must be. We all turn to face the newcomer.

Tiresias approaches us, alone, no sword drawn. All of the younger ones look confused, but Rji and I are less than thrilled for completely different reasons.

"You!" Rji says, turning her back on me. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Tiresias smiles and sweeps his hand to indicate all of us. "I've come for the show, of course. A gathering like this is indeed a rarity. Or have you all simply forgotten the rules?"

Rji looks angry and embarrassed, but defiant. "State your business here, jackass."

Tiresias laughs gently, stopping to survey us all. "So many interesting faces here today. My, my. Do you know our Aiar, Rji? Or is this just a coincidence?"

She distinctly doesn't want to play this game, but with their history she's helpless to stop herself. "What do you _want_, Ray?"

He approaches me sedately, ignoring how Rji bristles as he passes her. "I remember when I first saw you, little Aiar." He circles me, uncomfortably close, probably to emphasize his height. "Anyone would have thought you enjoyed being a slave. Or was that all an act?"

I have no intention of gratifying him with shame or embarrassment, and in fact I feel neither. "I never thanked you properly for freeing me," I say, laying on the sarcasm rather thickly. "Tell me, do you always betray your hosts' trusts, or was there some reason you felt Marcus deserved to have his student kill him?"

Tiresias laughs. "Rji, darling. You might be more careful of this one, those around her tend to end up dead, especially when they start out by attacking her."

"Shut up, Tiresias," Rji spits.

"Oh, but you must know that, already. Your dear departed brother met our Aiar, and look where it got him. But I'll wager she only killed him to get to you, didn't she?"

"Shut _up_, Tiresias!" Rji says again.

"It's true," I say softly, looking at Rji. She ought to know the full truth before she declines taking my head. "I wanted you to hate me. I wanted you to come after me. I wanted a worthy opponent, and vengeance is a good forger of enemies." My voice cracks and I stop so I can keep myself from crying.

Rji looks at me, but the anger in her eyes is only an echo. I realize she thinks I'm working some plan against Tiresias now. "And just how did you figure that, Ray?" she asks, glancing between him and me. "Please, dazzle us with the ingenuity of your sources. I know how you _love_ to toot your own horn."

"And what about you, Rji? Hunting after two poor, innocent mortals." He stops his circling a moment to look at Pao and Ben. He shakes his head and clicks his tongue reprovingly. "What _would_ Lien say?"

Rji jerks towards him, but then stops herself. "Lien would say to _shut the hell up_, Tiresias!"

"Aiar, surely you had a better plan for tonight than _this_." He resumes his circling. "Bringing your precious children into such danger! Did you really think you could protect them just by letting Rji take a few shots at you?" He touches the cut on the back of my neck, which is still bleeding freely.

But I don't flinch and I don't rise to the bait. "What's _your_ plan for tonight? Did you really think you could just _walk_ into a conflagration of nine immortals and trust to your forked and silvered tongue to get you back out again? Some of them are young enough to buy it, but it's more than Rji and me here tonight."

Tiresias laughs, but I can see nerves being suppressed. "Oh my, little Aiar, what big ideas you have! Or is that tattoos? Where _did_ they go? Or are you ashamed?"

"What do you want?" I say, echoing Rji.

He ignores me and turns to Rji again. "And-"

"What do you _want_, Tiresias?" she says, less patiently than I did.

He stops walking and looks back and forth between Rji and me several times and then laughs. "You are both such fools!" He begins pacing again. "Aiar, you can't protect your children, you must know that. And Rji, surely you realize that-" He falls to the ground, choking, due to the fact that his windpipe nearly just collapsed due to my hand meeting his throat with a good deal of force. Most of those assembled jump at my quick movement, but one of Rji's students laughs.

I turn to Rji. "He's your enemy, what do you suggest?"

Rji doesn't take her eyes of him. "I'd cut his tongue out if it wouldn't grow back." She turns to the student that laughed. "What was that about?"

The student is still trying to suppress laughter. "It was just… sorry, he just looked so funny."

Rji motions for him to help her, and the two of them pick up Tiresias. Rji draws a dagger. But I'm not in the mood to wait all night while she works on one vendetta before finishing ours. "That's not necessary," I say to her, and grab Tiresias' chin so I can see all of his face. He's catching his breath and starts to struggle, but two more of Rji's students join in to restrain him.

"What are you doing here?" I ask in my interrogation voice.

His thoughts cast about wildly for a good lie, but I shake him to bring his attention back to me.

"What are you doing here?"

Again he starts inventing a lie, but he starts from the truth.

"Why did you want to watch Rji kill me?"

Nothing but surprise.

"Why?" I say, more insistently.

So this was all about Rji, although I was a bit more than a pawn.

"Say it out loud," I say, letting him know with my expression that I know.

He looks frightened and uncertain, although he's covering it well. Rji looks between us, realizing what I'm doing.

"Say it!" I squeeze his jaw menacingly.

"I… I wanted Rji to know why you really-"

"The truth! Tell Rji why killing me would be fitting punishment for her!"

"I wanted you to kill Aiar, and then to tell you that letting her live would have been worse punishment! That you let her off easy!" He squirms, trying to get his jaw away from my hand. I hold him for a moment before relinquishing him.

Rji looks between Tiresias and me. She still hadn't decided if she was going to kill me or not, and now she's even less certain. Tiresias and I could have set this up. Then again, if we didn't, she sure as hell isn't going to do what Tiresias wants her to. Worse, she has no way of knowing what the truth is. And I have no way of helping her.

"Why should I believe either of you?" she finally asks.

I consider what to say for a moment. There's nothing I really can say that couldn't be construed as insincere or manipulative. Then a thought occurs to me. I spoke Rji and Lien's native language, as did a lot of people in those days, but that was well before Tiresias' time.

"What Tiresias said was true. I did kill Lien to make you my enemy. In those days I wanted a challenge, and I thought you were the stronger fighter. Rji, forget Tiresias. He is not involved in this - don't let him involve himself. Do not renounce your claim on my life out of pity. I don't deserve it, and not just because I killed your brother. I've done much worse things than what I did to you and Lien."

She considers me for a long moment. I can feel the pressure of my friends' eyes on me, but can't bring myself to look at any of them. Pao will never ever forgive me for this, regardless of whether I live or die this night. "Do you want to die, Aiar?" she finally asks, still using her native language.

"Yes and no." I consider saying more, but am afraid to. I don't want to persuade her one way or the other, and I definitely don't want to sound like I'm manipulating her.

When Rji sees I'm not going to say anymore, she prompts me again. "Well? Why and why not?"

I give her an appraising look, letting her see my doubt as well. "Either I'll sound like I'm tricking you or I'll be pushing you towards one side. My life is in _your_ hands."

She crosses her arms, looking annoyed. "Humor me."

I take a deep breath, and glance towards Pao and Ben almost involuntarily. "I remember," I say, staring at the sand. "I r-remember everything. Everyone I ever killed. Every bit of enjoyment I felt from their pain and deaths. Their blood. I want out. I want it to be over. But if I die, many of them die again with me, because there are none now left to remember them, and my atonement is left incomplete. You- you're the last left alive with a claim on my life. You're justice's last chance." I shudder again as I fight off an intrusive memory of the walled city and the night I betrayed child's light.

I can't meet Rji's eye. Once again I have the sensation of being too exposed, which again triggers memories of other such situations. I put my hand on the cut on my neck, but I don't need to hurt myself any worse. The sand on my hand stings the wound and the pain is enough to break through the memories. I really have to stop using pain to avoid these memories. Eventually it'll stop working.

One of Rji's students interrupts her thoughts before she decides. Radha speaks in Mandarin, probably thinking no one else present understands. "Rji, this is nonsense. Don't listen to her! We've been planning this for years; you can't throw that all away! What about your brother? Do you really think _this_ truly repents? She's probably Tiresias' friend! They probably planned all this!"

Rji watches Radha thoughtfully, but I guess this is just the last straw for Pao. She tries to draw her gun again, but Frank and Lucia are too quick for her. Struggling against them, she shouts in Chinese at Rji and Radha. "You know _nothing_ you ignorant bitch! You don't know the _first thing_ about her! Filthy, stupid whore!" She probably has worse things to say, but this is too close to getting out of hand.

"Pao! Stop it! She doesn't know me, but you don't know what I've done. Back. Off."

Pao spits in their general direction, but stops trying to get her gun out of its holster. I spare myself a moment to wonder if Lucia speaks Mandarin. Rji looks at Pao appraisingly, then says, "You killed those two smugglers."

"Fuck you!" Pao spits back. "You're as bad as you think my mother is! You wouldn't think twice about killing us, would you?"

Rji looks amused, but I don't want her baiting Pao, because Pao is highly likely to do something stupid. "Rji, leave it alone. Pao," I warn, "stop it." Luckily Rji loses interest in Pao, so Pao acquiesces.

Turning her attention back to me, Rji takes a step closer to me. Amusement flickers across her face and she asks me, "So, what would you do if I set my students on you instead of attacking you myself?"

I snort. "Grandstand." Lucia suppresses a laugh and Rji's students exchange disgruntled looks. Tiresias opens his mouth to say something, but several hostile looks stop him.

"What are you going to do with Tiresias?" I ask in return, switching back to Rji's native language for privacy.

Rji shrugs. "I'm still trying to decide what to do with _you_. Maybe I should just kill one of your kids and let you stew about it for a while." She seems sincere, but is just testing me. Regardless, I don't find that remotely entertaining.

"Don't," I say, keeping my face, eyes, and voice blank. I don't need to imply a threat. I realize as she watches me that she never intended to kill Pao, but capture and maybe torture her. Or maybe turn her over to those arms smugglers. Until Pao involved him, I don't think Rji even knew about Ben.

Rji finally comes to a decision. She picks up her sword and gestures her students away from Tiresias. Before he can even get to his knees she drives her sword through his sternum. "Just leave him," she says to her students. "Go back, I'll catch up with you." I guess she enjoys her rivalry with Tiresias. He'll be awake again in another few hours.

She waits until they leave to speak to me. "Promise me something," she says, and again I have flashbacks of Marcus. "Never forget Lien."

"I never will."

She sheaths her sword then bows to me, hands pressed in front of her. I bow back. She turns to follow her students, and watching her go, a sudden compulsion makes me whisper under my breath in my own native language, "A blessing on your path and a light on your children."

If she hears me she doesn't show it.

Fighting off tears, I turn back to my friends and children. Christian lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Ben has been crying. Frank looks dumbfounded. Lucia amazed, Pao furious. They all start talking at once, but I just sigh and say, "Come on. Let's go home." I try not to let my disappointment at being alive show. Pao already has reason enough to be mad at me. No reason to add insult to injury. Before I can start walking away, Ben grabs me in a hug. "It's alright, Ben. Come on, your wife must be worried."

Frank keeps staring at me like he's never seen me before. I try to ignore him as a heard them back towards the cars. Lucia glances back at Tiresias a few times. "I think I met him, once," she says to me conversationally.

"I hope you never do again," I say, in no mood for levity.

"Who the hell _is_ he?" Christian asks me, but I can't find the strength to talk about it and simply shrug.

"All I know is he had something to do with a dispute between the Calvinists and the Catholics," Lucia volunteers.

Ben starts crying again and Pao tries to comfort him. He shoos her off but she glares at me for a moment before leaving him alone. Frank starts ripping the bottom of his shirt and I turn to give him a questioning look.

"Your neck," he says, gesturing. He folds the fabric and moves close enough to press it against my cut.

"Forget it, Frank," I say, waving him off feebly. "It'll be gone by the time we get back to Lucia's house. Actually before that if that sniper hasn'tescaped." Frank ignores me and makes me keep pressure on it with my hand.

"I forgot about him!" Christian says.

"He'll be thrilled," I say. I guess I need to figure out who sent him now.

"Pao, what are you going to do?" Frank asks. "Can you even go back to China?"

"Hey," I interject, deciding I might as well put on a good show of normality. "My kids are off limits, Frank."

Pao's retort dies on her lips. I guess she's not speaking to me. Oh well, that'll change sooner than I'd probably like anyway. Frank isn't up to banter, either.

A stop at the offices where we left the sniper confirmed he had indeed escaped, but in all honest I'm relieved. It saves me the trouble of figuring out what to do with him. We head back to Lucia's house after that, but Lucia insists we celebrate almost as soon as we get inside. Scots. Everything's an excuse for alcohol. Ben and Christian declare it a capital idea, but the rest of us aren't convinced. Pao eventually decides partying is a way to thumb her nose at me, and once Pao's on board Frank quickly follows. I agree because it's easier, and pretty soon I'm left alone in the kitchen with Lucia while everyone else runs off to fight over the shower and find clothes. Lucia fishes a beer out of the fridge while I sit pointlessly on one of her bar stools.

"You look awfully disappointed for someone who's just escaped decapitation," Lucia says in Gaelic while I continue staring off into space.

I shrug. "I feel like I've missed my last chance."

"Last chance? At _what_?"

"A meaningful death."

"Meaningful? What's meaningful about vengeance?"

I shrug again, not wanting to get into this discussion. I have a feeling I'm going to be having it with Pao, and probably Frank given the way he's been acting towards me.

"God! You're a piece of work. I can't believe you made your kids watch that."

"If I had left them somewhere else she would have gone after them instead of me. Even if you _had_ gotten on that plane to Chile." My voice sounds hollow.

She grimaces and I know I'm right. "It was still cruel."

I nod. "Pao's never going to forgive me." I rub my forehead as exhaustion hits me like a ton of bricks.

Lucia doesn't say anything. She's torn between feeling sorry for me and trying to make me feel grateful. I don't want either. I've lost a daughter, and probably a friend, and it would be nice if Lucia didn't join their ranks.

"You should have told me," Lucia says, but there's no reproach in her voice.

I meet her eye finally and give her a wan smile. "You're probably right."

"I thought you were supposed to say, 'but you would have stopped me.'"

I shrug. "I was thinking it."

Lucia laughs, and I can't help but laugh, too. "Come on," she says, returning the conversation to English. "Let's get completely and utterly shitfaced, and you can deal with the fallout tomorrow."

"I'll leave drunk and disorderly to you, Frank, and Pao. Unless you've changed all three of you need your own chaperone. Besides, I don't think I should let the sun go down on either Pao or Frank. They're too important for that."

"Ha! Christian a chaperone. You better hope Ben stays sober, because otherwise we're leaving a car at the party."

I nod, but am not really interested. How in the world am I going to explain this to them?


End file.
